


Sunshine on a Sunday

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Depression, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29757786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kyungsoo just wanted somebody to die for, not being the cause of someone’s death.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17
Collections: No Happy Ending Fest - 2020





	Sunshine on a Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** Self-Prompt  
>  **Prompt:** After finally accepting he's not alright, Kyungsoo is left with resentment towards those who had inflicted pain on him. But it's not easy to assess his feelings properly when Jongin, the one who had unknowingly broken his heart severely, keeps showing up at his ward.  
>  **Pairing/Main Character(s):** Doh Kyungsoo / Kim Jongin  
>  **Side Characters(if any):**  
>  **Word Count:** 37.1K  
>  **Warning(s)/Additional Tag(s):** Depression, Mental Health Issues, Blood and Injury, Sucidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Homophobia  
>  **Author's note:**  
>  1\. This story was majorly based on my personal experience that was mildly dramatized for writing purposes, thus I claim that this is an individual view on the things explored and elaborated in the story, and it does NOT stand as a view that is commonly agreed upon.  
> 2\. This story was not written with the purpose of educating readers about the issues in it; it was more of a case instead of a proper lesson. It was not meant to justify the actions the characters did or generalize real life people having the same issues.  
> 3\. Reader's discretion is strongly advised.  
> 4\. I thank Sam Smith for 'To Die For' and Taylor Swift for 'Right Where You Left Me', for this work took a handful (if not a lot) of inspirations from both songs.  
> 5\. Please give Kyungsoo some love :'(

* * *

_On a farm long ago, a Mama Duck sat on her nest._

He sees red.

_“How long must I wait for my babies to hatch?” she said. “I have to sit here all alone! And no one comes to visit me.” But what could she do? A Mama duck must keep her eggs warm till they hatch._

It’s the red shade of blood. There’s a pool of it on the broken white colored tiles of his kitchen, the contrasting mix captivating his eyes in a rather eerie way. He’s too confused by the color and the metallic smell that exudes the moment his fingers touched the substance. There’s too much blood, he feels as if the world is spinning a light year per hour, as if he could hear it whirring.

_At last, the eggs began to crack. One by one, yellow ducklings stepped out of their shells. They shook their wings and said, “Quack, quack!”_

The birthday cake they haven't even touched is resting on the floor, ruined in all of its glory, around two meters from where he kneels, where his everything is shaking in shock and horror.

_“Look at all of you!” said Mama Duck with joy. “You are all so cute!”_

_“Quack, quack!” they said._

Then there’s the pair of honey brown colored eyes that are staring up back at him. They’re struggling to keep their focus on him as the light slowly flickers in them, circling back and forth on the line between life and death. He can’t look away. How could he?

_Mama Duck said, “Come and line up. We will go down to the lake for your very first swim.” She counted – one, two, three, four, five. “Oh dear!” she said. “I should have six ducklings!”_

And then, he hears it; the faint, almost inaudible words that his ears caught amidst the loud ringing sound in his head. It must’ve been from his own mouth, despite him not being sure that he’s even moving his lips. Maybe he isn’t aware of anything else. Maybe he has just lost his ability to comprehend.

_But one large egg was still in the nest. “Well," said Mama Duck, "it looks like that big egg will take more time.”_

“I’m sorry.”

_So she had to go sit on her nest again and wait some more._

* * *

**eighty one days**

before ???

“Good morning, Kyungsoo.”

He ripped his gaze away from the window; he was caught by the way the thin curtains flowed due to the breeze that had blown into the room. His eyes were now on the man sitting on the couch across from him, wearing the white gown he had barely come to be in peace with. Slightly nodding, he forced himself to look at the man in the eyes; he didn't get to hold it for more than five seconds.

“Good morning. Minseok.”

“Did you have your breakfast yet? The soybean paste stew was so good.”

The food was so good indeed. It was just that his stomach had been hating every kind of substance that plans to intrude its space. “Yeah.”

“Your face looks less pale than yesterday.”

“Really?” He unknowingly brought his hand up to touch his right cheek. “Oh.”

“I assume you had a good rest last night?”

Briefly recalling about the times he tossed and turned on the bed, he nodded slowly. “I slept from three to seven. This morning.”

“That’s almost twice the amount of hours you got lately. Good job, Kyungsoo. How’s your arm?”

He winced when he put his hand down on his lap again. “It’s been getting less painful lately.” He then looked down, staring at the arm in discussion. “But I… I still use my other hand the most. For now.”

“Very nice.” Minseok hummed with a seemingly proud smile on his lips. “Does that mean you’re up for the drawing class today?”

Drawing class. Class. Meant he’d be with a bunch of other people. People who wore white plastic bracelets similar to one wrapped around the wrist of his left hand. People who were in emotional pain, the doctors and nurses here would conclude. People who were sick in the head, every other person out there would say. This was not some kind of gathering. This was a pitiful attempt in giving people here a glimpse of what a normal life could be like. Normal life. Such an abstract concept, constructed by social stigmas and expectations. He had hated the word ‘normal’ for so many years.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered after the burst of thoughts.

The doctor sighed softly. “It’s alright. Well, if you get bored later, you know where to find me and others.”

“Okay.”

“Wait, today is Sunday.”

As if he was thrown away by the sound of an alarm clock, he whipped his head to take a look at the calendar on the light green colored wall of the office room. True to the doctor’s words, today was Sunday indeed. His gaze shifted to the clock above it; it was almost eleven.

He could feel dread spreading all over his system.

“Looks like you won’t be bored today after all.”

===

Sometime ago, he started gaining resentment for the sunny weather.

It’s the symbol of joy, of good things, of the happy ending to a long story. People make plans with friends and family in this kind of weather. There’s this stigma that when the weather is this nice, everyone should do something that brings them joy. No bad thing is allowed in this weather.

But the more he stared at the blue sky adorned with white clouds, he hated it even more. The sentiment never sat well with him. He hated how the sunlight stung his eyes, how the heat made him feel suffocated, how the colors bursted around him.

He couldn’t really remember when he started hating. All he knew was that it was exhausting, but he couldn't stop it.

Sitting alone on a bench at the park outside the hospital building on a Sunday morning seemed to be the most pathetic thing in the world. He closed his eyes and rested the back of his head on the backrest of the bench; at least the wind felt nice. He rarely came out of his room on usual days, thus being here counted as a weekend trip.

Somehow his world had gotten so small, and he accepted it as it is.

His ears perked up out of the blue upon catching the sound of the grass being stepped on by shoes. Then the blaring red that he saw under his covered eyelids turned a little bit darker, meaning that someone was blocking the sunlight from attacking him directly. Dread swirled in his chest where his heart started to pick up pace. He knew who the person was, and he loathed the effect the person had on him.

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with a small grin from a pair of plump lips. Then a familiar pair of slightly droopy eyes, their corners crinkled up. Then the glow on the olive skin that somehow looked so, so good paired with the white shirt the man was wearing.

“Happy Sunday, Kyungsoo.” the man said.

Happy. Sunday. Two words that made him shiver in distaste. Still, he tried to reply to the greeting, averting his gaze to avoid being overwhelmed from seeing the person in front of him any longer than this. “Happy Sunday -”

He still said it because the person in front of him was none other than -

“- Jongin.”

Of course. Who else would he pretend to be alright in front of if it wasn’t the ever so glorious _Kim Jongin_?

“It’s so good to see you outside like this!” Jongin chirped as he took the empty spot on the bench next to him. Just like how he had always stolen a spot around him throughout the years, always barging into his life without a proper knock. “Is it just me or is there really more color on your face?”

He could feel warmth spreading on the apple of his cheeks; he didn’t like it when people pointed out something about him, and it was somehow much worse when it was Jongin who did it because it made him feel so vulnerable for the world to see. Minseok was an excuse because it was his job to notice these things.

“So I brought you this.” Jongin’s voice pulled him out of his train of thoughts, and he found a paper bag on the man’s lap. He recognized the logo printed on the side right away; it was from his favorite donut shop. Jongin must’ve bought him a box of sugar glazed donuts again as if he was his Sunday service.

As if he was a mere weekly charity work for him. And maybe he was.

“Thank you.” He murmured while receiving the box of donuts while Jongin settled two cups of Iced Americano on the spot between them. The burdening feeling that came after accepting such a gesture always irritated him, but just like many times before, he let it slide for Jongin.

Letting things slide for Jongin was what got him here in the first place, but then who was he to stop himself?

“How has it been with the sleep?”

He wondered why everyone was so interested in whether he slept enough or not. Was it the new measure of sanity? Will you be normal if you sleep enough? “Fine… I guess.”

Jongin was currently slurping his drink, and somehow he found comfort in the sound of the ice bumping against the wall of the plastic cup. “Do you think Dr. Kim would let me take you out for lunch?”

The question stopped him from taking a donut out of the box. He slowly turned his head to look at the guy beside him, alarm ringing inside his skull. For a moment, he contemplated what to feel about the question; was he supposed to be flattered that Jongin was planning to take him out for lunch or was he supposed to feel bitter for the very same reason? He got back to his donuts again. “Maybe he would,” he truthfully pondered. Minseok was just that flexible.

“Then do you want to eat out for lunch?” He heard Jongin shifting on his seat. “Remember the diner right across the street I’ve told you about?”

He did. It was the one Jongin visited with his family after attending service at Church two weeks before, the one Jongin picked only because it was close to here - if what Jongin told him was even true. “Which one?” he asked anyway. It didn’t matter if he remembered or not.

“The one that serves this killer beef stew! The broth tasted so amazing and they were generous with the rice. But you can ask for half of the usual portion since you eat little.”

He had forgotten since when he started hating the way Jongin knew too many things about him.

“I think I’ll pass.”

The small, dejected ‘ _Oh?_ ’ that he got after punched him in the guts right away.

“Yeah, it’s just, I had… stew, too. For breakfast. Soybean paste stew.” And just why was he making excuses for something that wasn’t being held against him?

“Oh, I get it. You want to eat a different type of dish for lunch.” As expected, the bouncy tone in Jongin’s voice returned immediately. “What do you feel like eating? I’ll go with anything you choose today.”

_That’s not the point_. He could feel the dread twisting and churning inside him. “I don’t feel… comfortable going out yet.”

Now he felt like a loser even more.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. That was silly of me.”

No. He was the one sorry. For being this pathetic. “It’s fine.”

“Then it’s settled; we’re having lunch here. I hope they serve donkatsu again today.”

That was still not the point, but there was no way he could tell Jongin that. Wouldn’t have he been a heartless monster to tell Jongin that he didn’t want to have lunch _with him_ when the man had wasted his precious time on such a nice day to visit him in this pathetic place? “Seems like it.”

Again, and again, he let things slide for Jongin.

  
  
  


Sunday meant a handful of visitors. They would be the family, friends or even lovers of the patients. Majorly obligated family members who didn't neglect the patient because ' _we are family_ ', friends who felt guilty for having the commonly agreed type of normal life out there, and lovers who still hung on to the hoax of ' _everything will be okay again_ '.

He thought everything was meaningful and pointless at the same time. Meaningful because as much as he was bitter about it, he also knew that the support of close ones could play a part in the seemingly vain recovery. Pointless because no matter how many times they visited, it wouldn't matter if their presence brought more reasons for anxiousness instead of fresh air to the patients. Everything was crooked. He always wondered if he had always been the only one who could see the ugly truth.

After letting his eyes wander around, he settled them on Jongin, who was munching on his food. They didn't serve donkatsu for the day; it was seafood bibimbap, and somehow it only got Jongin more delighted. He immediately casted his gaze down over his own bowl when Jongin smiled at him.

That smile looked worse in this setting.

"So we've decided to go to Hawaii for my birthday." Jongin, as always, slid into a conversation with so much ease. It was like everyone else was born to hear him talk. "Just me and Jongdae. Thinking of some brothers’ bonding time."

Hawaii would be hot and sunny. Blinding and scorching. He, for a moment, thought of this place better. "That sounds nice," he murmured, hiding the unwillingness in his voice with the sound of his spoon scraping the bowl - his arm was hurting a little because of the excessive force, but he couldn’t register the pain while his head was buzzing because of something else.

"I wish you could tag along. You know, to get you some sun. And the sea! Damn, the sea would be so pretty in real life."

Maybe that sentence was the substitute for ‘ _what are_ you _doing for your birthday?_ ’ because by the time the day came, he would still be right here. Maybe that sentence was another form of ‘ _sorry, I won’t be here to wish you a happy birthday because I’d already be in Hawaii by then for mine_ ’.

"Me?" He prevented bitterness from spilling out of him. "You just said it's gonna be brothers... bonding time."

"Well, you're considered a brother of ours too, don't you remember?"

The spoon dug onto the surface of the wooden bowl when he accidentally put too much pressure on it. Nauseous feeling suddenly rose in him. He loathed it.

"Of course I do." _If I don't then I wouldn't have been here in the first place._

"Once you go home, where do you want to go for some healing time?"

' _Once you go home_ ', Jongin said with such ease. Did he even have a home at this point? The house he had grown up in has finally turned into a total Hell for him. The mental hospital he had been residing in for almost four months wasn't expected to be his permanent place. He had no place to go after this.

But still, he let himself dream about a fine day where he wouldn't loathe breathing.

"A cafe," he had said without him fully realizing it.

"A cafe?"

Glancing at Jongin's curious eyes, he started regretting ever saying anything. It would only make Jongin coax him into talking more and talking, _dear God_ , talking was exhausting. Still, he gathered some strength to speak again. "A cafe. A nice, quiet cafe," he half murmured his words in hope Jongin would just ignore them. "I'd be sitting outside. Drinking something fresh. Like lemonade. Probably in Summer."

"Whoa." Jongin sounded genuinely intrigued, and it got him hopeful for a moment, and for that, he cursed at himself again. "That was rather specific. It was a plan, wasn't it?"

He shrugged slightly. "I just thought it would be nice. To enjoy some time with myself like that."

"It's a great plan, Kyungsoo."

Was it? Did Jongin really think it was? Or did Jongin just simply want to agree with what he said so they could move on to another topic? He wondered why he even bothered to talk about it in the first place. He had wasted both their time on it. Not knowing what to say after, he scraped the surface of his bowl harshly again.

"But if you change your mind later, about sitting alone, you know you can always ask me to accompany you there, right?"

No. He didn't. He didn't know that, because he knew it was impossible. Jongin wouldn't be there with him at the cafe. Jongin would be caught in his more-than-perfect life, too busy smiling to even know about the day he got discharged.

He didn't even want to hope for the opposite to happen. He had enough of fooling himself.

"Right," he answered nonetheless. Anything to please Jongin.

Anything, to keep Jongin's bubble of cheeriness.

===

When it was almost five in the evening, Jongin finally informed him he was going home.

"Please don't forget to tell me what you want me to bring for you next Sunday." Jongin's frown and pout went in tandem. "I always waited for a call from here but you never did."

"Jongin," he finally dared himself to call the name properly, "you don't have to bring me anything. It's not your job."

Tinge of dejection only filled his face more. "Then whose job is it if it's not mine?"

"Why do you even think it's yours?"

His voice unintentionally went louder at the last question.

"Because I'm your best friend." He wished the ground would swallow him when he noticed the way Jongin's voice became much softer. "And I'm your family. This is what I do to my family. I take care of them."

Jongin had always been a family man. He was very filial, practically his parents' favorite due to that trait of his. He was popular among his cousins, was the favorite of his nieces and nephews, and was the most memorable guy for his friends. He was the type of person who magically had time for everyone in his life.

So of course, when the Doh family were presented with Kim Jongin, the guy earned his way into the house very easily.

Was that the point of culmination before things started going downhill for him?

"Just, chill, okay?" He flinched a little when Jongin patted his shoulder. He hoped the guy didn't notice it. "Seriously, tell me anything. Ask whatever you want me to bring."

_Bring me a drug that could make me feel happy._

He wanted to laugh the bitterness out of his system. He only nodded instead.

Minutes later, they were standing right in front of the entrance door to the building. "So, see you in a week!" Jongin waved at him despite still being only inches apart. "I'll tell mother and father you're looking healthy. They'd be very pleased."

He doubted they would. He also doubted he'd take it well if they really ended up not asking about him. "Yeah."

"Seungsoo said he would visit you once the quarterly report is done. He's been working overtime for that, so I and Haesoo have been helping him and Yoona entertain the kids."

He refrained himself from imagining the soap drama-like happy scene that Jongin must've been in with the others. Jongin was everyone's favorite, of course they trusted him with the kids. It had been so apparent that Seungsoo was so fond of him.

"Oh, right, Haesoo. I asked her about tagging along today, and she said she wanted to visit you by herself some time around this week. I guess she misses her brother very much.”

Doh Haesoo. The little flower. If Seungsoo was the pride of the family, then Haesoo was the joy. He found himself believing Jongin's words; Haesoo was the kind of person that would let some issues slide just because the person in question was someone she held dear. He'd believe it if Haesoo told him she missed him. "I'll be waiting for her."

A plain lie. He hoped she wouldn't come.

"Then I'm leaving now. See you soon, dude." Jongin gave him a boyish smile before he started walking away, waving at him again.

He replied with a hesitant wave from himself.

There he went, Kim Jongin. The sight of the guy's back under the dimming sunlight was enough to suffocate him. Jongin looked so beautiful even from behind, even as his figure was getting smaller and smaller in his sight. The beauty that he saw was tearing his already shredded heart once more.

There he went, Kim Jongin. His best friend of three years.

And his potentially eternal heartbreak.

* * *

* * *

_The next day, the big egg started to hatch. Out came a baby boy bird._

_But if one may say so, it was an odd-looking thing._

"What should we do with him?"

His eyes blink back at his trembling hands.

_This bird was much bigger than others. He was not yellow at all - he was dark-gray from his head to his feet. And he walked with a funny wobble._

They're clean. He had made sure of it. He had washed them for countless times to the point he chafed them; they're now constantly dry and itchy. Not that he can afford feeling anything anyway; he's numb. In order not to feel too much, he decided to be numb.

His hands are clean, but he still sees dark red painting them.

_One of the yellow ducklings pointed. “What is THAT? He cannot be one of us!”_

_“I have never seen such an ugly duckling!” said another._

_“How can you say such a thing?” said Mama Duck in a stern voice. “You are only one day old! Your brother hatched from the very same nest as you did. Now line up. We will go to the lake for your very first swim.”_

"I can't look at his face. I can't. _You_ talk to him."

He counts the engraved lines on the tiles right where his feet rest. So many lines crossing over each other. He counts loudly in his head to drown the voice of his father and brother; he doesn't know whether they don't realize he can hear them or they know it very well hence the audible whispers.

When he can't drown their words anymore, he slowly shifts his face to glance at them.

_Yet the other ducklings quacked, “Ugly! Ugly! Ugly!”_

_The Ugly Duckling did not know why the other ducklings were yelling at him. He took the last spot in the line._

His brother is staring back at him, his eyes gloomy. It's as if they're a mirror and he can see the disappointment that he reflects.

It's not a surprise. It was bound to happen. He knew sooner or later everyone in his life would despise his existence.

He just didn't think it would still hurt when he finally sees it unfolding.

_Each yellow duck jumped in the river and swam behind Mama Duck. When it was his turn, the Ugly Duckling jumped in and started to paddle, too._

His hands tremble again.

_“At least he can swim,” Mama Duck said to herself._

* * *

**seventy nine days**

before ???

There was a window, a medium sized square frame adorned with thin white curtains, on the wall where his bed was pushed up against. The thin fabric of the curtains allowed the sunlight to light the room naturally from morning to afternoon.

He thought of it as a painting.

It was as if he was in a gallery with only one art that would change its surface from time to time. A painting of the real life outside the four walls that he had locked himself in. Sometimes it would be in vibrant colors when the sky was almost clear and blue and the sun was shining, other times it would be in monochrome when the clouds got dark. All he had to do was open his eyes and sit on his bed, tilt his head to the right, and stare, and stare, and just stare.

This way, he could pretend that the real life outside was fabricated, was just dry paint on a decaying canvas. This way, he could feel a little bit better being here.

He stayed for another minute staring at the window before he got off the bed. Dragging himself towards the bathroom, he couldn't help but notice the dread that had been swirling inside his chest ever since he woke up and remembered something he wished wouldn't happen. He stopped in front of the wardrobe and opened its doors unknowingly, wondering if he should wear something to give color to his hospital clothes.

Then he wondered why he even bothered to think about that. Who was he trying to impress? What was he going to prove?

Leaving the doors of the wardrobe open, he resumed his way to the bathroom. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and froze in front of it. Both Minseok and Jongin must've been lying to him. All he saw was an empty shell of a person; pale skin, dry lips, tired looking eyes with black circles under them. He didn't look healthy at all.

He gulped down the nauseousness and walked away.

  
  
  


"My sister is visiting today."

"Haesoo?" Minseok was still preparing tea at his small personal pantry. "And how are you feeling about it?"

He opted to stare at his hands on his laps for a moment. He wasn't even sure what he felt about the visit, but one thing for sure was that he wasn't anticipating it. "I don't know," he answered truthfully.

"From what I remember, she's a very kind person."

"She is."

Minseok came back to him with a cup of steaming tea which he accepted gratefully. "You'll be fine." The psychiatrist then took a seat on the sofa across him.

"Are you sure?" he murmured.

"Not really." Minseok chuckled lightly. "I was just encouraging you to go for it."

He appreciated the honesty. Sipping the tea, he let his mind wander around and imagine the possible scenarios of Haesoo's visit this noon. The thought of having to talk to his sister already made him anxious. Would he even survive today unscathed?

Would he survive the meeting with the main actress of his nightmares?

“How do I face her?” he finally asked. He only kept his eyes on the tea, not having the guts to look at Minseok despite knowing the psychiatrist wouldn’t judge him for his ridiculous question.

“You mean, how do you face her without feeling like breaking everything in the room?”

His silence was an effective confirmation.

“Remember the phrase, Kyungsoo; she’s _not_ the villain.”

===

Doh Haesoo was the perfect girl.

Twenty four years old, she was easily the apple of the eyes of the entire family; pretty and tiny face, petite figure with glowing white skin, sense of fashion that dolled her up to be everyone’s sweet and elegant Princess, even sweeter and more elegant attitude, and as the cherry on top, a promising future as a Doctor. There was no reason to hate her except blatant jealousy. Haesoo’s world had always been colored with good things only.

Doh Haesoo was the perfect girl, and he couldn’t blame her for being one.

He just blamed his parents for even having him in the first place.

If only they had waited for two more years to have another child, they wouldn’t have had him. They would’ve been a complete set with Seungsoo and Haesoo. A brilliant son to inherit the family’s business and a bright daughter to dote on. Why did they rush to have him only to make him the one who couldn’t find his role in the house?

Why did they force him into existence only to leave him floating around?

“Do I have your attention, brother?”

It was then that he realized he had stared at the doors of the guest area for too long and had drowned in his thoughts while at it. He tore his gaze apart from there and got back to his sister again, who was staring back at him curiously with her round eyes. “I’m sorry, Haesoo. I spaced out.”

People never failed to tell them they looked so similar that they could pass as twins. And he never failed to resent them for saying so. It was as if looking similar to Haesoo was his only value.

“It’s alright.” The young lady smiled at him lightly while fixing her hair. “I must’ve bored you at some point. I was just talking about the wounds on your arm.”

“No, no. It’s just,” he gulped down the guilt in his throat, “I’ve been... having a hard time. To focus. That’s all. I swear. And the wounds, they’re almost completely closed. My arm is fine.”

Haesoo nodded slowly at him, seemingly swallowing the explanation fully. “I suppose that’s a given,” she murmured, which made him look at her almost blankly. It urged her to elaborate. “I’ve read some stuff about… depression. About people with depression, I mean. The symptoms. I remember the difficulty of focusing being one of them.”

He didn’t know what he was feeling about the fact that Haesoo took time to learn about what he was struggling with. Was he flattered that she cared enough to do that? Or was he bitter because everyone, including his own sister, was slowly yet surely branding him ‘ _the depressed guy_ ’ and reducing his worth to just that? “You don’t have to. Read about those. Don’t bother.”

“But I want to. I just… I want to understand you. I want to understand what you’re dealing with, and maybe when I understand enough, I could help you.”

He decided he was going with bitterness. No one, not even himself, could ever understand what he was dealing with to the point they could help him. No one would ever be able to see from his eyes. No one could just come and save him from this.

“I mean, you wouldn’t tell me anything. You wouldn’t tell me what’s going on inside your head, and-”

“Can we please talk about something else?”

That was the longest sentence he managed to say without stuttering or trailing off mid-way in the last few months, and he couldn’t even be proud of it. He saw the glint of hurt flashing in Haesoo’s eyes when he glanced at them; it was gone in the matter of seconds, replaced with the usual facade of elegance on her face.

“Alright.” She cleared her throat. “What would you like to talk about?”

He didn’t want to. Talking was the last thing he looked forward to, especially with some people in particular - his sister included. But then he did anyway because what would the poor Doh Kyungsoo be without feeling like he was the worst person in the world and wanting to do anything possible to make up for it?

“How is… home?”

And apparently he was the most idiotic person as well. Why would he ask about something he knew would trigger his dark thoughts?

“Home’s been good!” He watched as Haesoo answered him with her genuine excitement. “Dad got Mom a new car so she could give the old one to Auntie. You should’ve seen her face when she saw it parked in front of our house in the morning. Oh, Seungsoo has been visiting a lot too, he’d always bring the kids so I and Jongin would often babysit them for a few hours if we’re home. Speaking of Jongin, he’s planning to go for a trip with Jongdae for his birthday-”

“He told me.” He didn’t know what actually gave him the energy to cut Haesoo’s words like that. “Brothers time, he said.” Was it the unnecessary pride? The desperation to win at least one thing over her?

“Exactly. It’s so adorable how he’s so excited for it, you know, as if he hasn’t met Jongdae for years. He has such a soft heart when it comes to family, we all know it.”

That was the thing. Everyone knew how much of a good, kind hearted man that Jongin was. Everything he knew about Jongin was common knowledge. There wasn’t anything special that only he knew, and he was never considered someone so special to Jongin that the guy would give him the privilege to know more of his personal things. He was just another person in Jongin’s life when Jongin was _the_ special one in his.

He brought torment to himself the moment he gave his heart out to someone who didn’t ask for it.

And now he was in a mental hospital, sitting while holding the shattered heart in his trembling hand.

“ - because I honestly don’t want to wait too long to take on residency at the hospital, but at the same time I want to start building a family. I want to go to school just as much as I want to have kids. It’s greedy of me, right?”

He didn’t realize that he had tuned out Haesoo’s words when he was too busy with his own thoughts, almost drowning in them again. “No, no.” He shook his head. “You want to live your life best. There’s… nothing wrong. In wanting it.”

His words weren’t meant to make his sister smile, but he still got it nonetheless. He didn’t deny the relief that washed over him upon seeing the way her face lit up because of him. “You just made me feel much better about it. And Kyung, you’ll be living your life best, too. Once you’re out of here.”

Out of here? Sounded like a hoax. “I guess.”

“Mom is still bitter that you’re here. But don’t worry, I’ve been asking her again and again to trust you with this.”

“What did she say?”

If he noticed the way Haesoo seemed caught off-guard with his question and realized that she had said something she shouldn’t have, he just acted like he saw nothing. He was good at it. “Oh, you know, the usual stuff.” She picked her composure up back easily. “She keeps insisting that you’re supposed to be at home with us. That you’re supposed to be going through the healing process with your family.”

For the first time in a while, he wanted to laugh out loud, and it wasn’t out of genuine mirth. _What if I’m doing the healing here because the cause of my misery is at home?_

“But, again, don’t worry. I’ll handle Mom. Seungsoo and Jongin have been helping me with it.”

“How about Dad?” He cursed at himself once again for asking. “Did he say anything?”

“Not really, I think. He trusts you with this, as you can see. Besides, the head of the hospital has been reporting about your progress to him. Although the other day he asked me whether I was really going to visit you or not this week.”

And there, again, he started tuning his sister’s voice out, staring off as if he had turned the TV on without the sound just for the sake of feeling less alone. Maybe that was why he wasn’t entirely against the idea of Haesoo visiting him here; seeing her face connected him to his life outside, although her words about the things that happened while he was away only added to the weight on his mind. In all honesty, she was ironically both the only face from home that he was willing to see and the face that reminded him of the way his life spiraled down months ago, hence the obnoxious mixed feelings in his chest.

He just stayed staring closely at his sister, nodding occasionally at some things he couldn’t catch quite well, thinking that maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to meeting her in the first place.

===

“I shouldn’t have been born.”

There was a heavy, deafening silence that followed his simple yet harrowing words. It was the kind of silence that filled the whole room, suffocating the people in it slowly, gently leading them towards the process of rationalizing what was just said earlier.

In front of him, across the coffee table, was Minseok, sitting on the armchair while holding a paper clip board on his lap. He already knew what Minseok was going to ask him.

“What makes you think so?”

And he knew what to answer; he just didn’t know how to begin. Saying everything out loud would only make him feel even more pathetic than he already did.

“They used to tell me stories. About the day Seungsoo was born.” He wondered if it was the proper starting point of his story. “They told my parents how lucky they were… to have a son as their first child. The protector of the younger siblings. The successor of their business. They also said that, if their second child was a daughter, then they would be complete. That was the story I’d always hear in gatherings. My parents would be smiling. So wide. They would start looking for Seungsoo. Just to pat him on the back. Haesoo… would already be there with them. She’s always with them.”

He forced himself to gulp in the familiar bitterness that would always grow in his throat whenever he thought about this.

“None of those people, who kept telling me those stories over and over again, realized what they had made me think. Made me feel. Or maybe they did realize. Maybe they did it intentionally to… put me in place. I’m a middle child. The extra member of the family. Extraneous, even. What was the use of another son when they already have one, anyway. How did I know they thought I was unnecessary? They tried for another child. And they got a daughter. A perfect one, I might add. It only… solidified my unimportance in the house. The extra mouth to feed and image to build.” He paused for a moment, confused by how he still got stunned by the revelation of the pathetic truth of his life. “Seungsoo was their pride. Haesoo was their joy. And then there was me, the one they never quite knew where to put. All they know… is that… they were _supposed_ to love me. Because I’m their child. Everything they did and felt for me, it was for the sake of following the norms. And not being monsters. I was never loved for who I am. I was valued for the idea of… of who they expected me to be.”

That was not really the proper summary of his existence, and maybe it was quite biased in his side, but he deserved to at least tell people the way he saw the world after spending years of being told how he should see it.

“What did you feel when you had that epiphany?” Minseok asked, still as poised as ever. And as usual, his question came out unexpectedly. He had thought the psychiatrist would ask him to elaborate more about his thoughts. No one ever really asked him how he felt or took his feelings to consideration in times that he wanted them to.

Jongin was the one with the best attempt to understand his feelings.

“Sad.” He was angry. So angry, so furious, when he wasn’t even sure if he had the right to, whether he was really seeing the truth or was just being ungrateful. Then he was lost, because he found that his existence in this world was in vain. It only worsened when he confirmed his thoughts by observing the way everyone navigated around him. He had felt so many upsetting emotions, but in the end, to summarize them, he chose that word.

Sad. He had been sad for the longest time.

“Sad?”

“The kind that numbs you,” he continued. “It was like something had… punched a hole inside my chest.”

“What exactly was it that made you sad?”

The conclusion. Minseok was asking what he had concluded from his discovery. “The fact that… I’m living a meaningless life. That I’m disposable. I’m not important. I have no exact value. If I was a product, I would’ve been deemed unprofitable. I would’ve been… eliminated. I wonder why I haven’t been eliminated. From this world.”

“Do you really want that?” The carefulness in Minseok’s tone comforted him a little and irked him at the same time. “To be eliminated from this world.”

Minseok was asking him if he wanted to die. The psychiatrist was too nice to use those words instead.

  
“I just think…” he pondered for a moment, “that I have no use in this world. It’s tiring. To live without a use.”

Life had become exhausting for him since long ago. It was a miracle that he still held on to this day.

“So you want to stop living?”

Still too nice to use the other word.

Yes, he wanted to stop living. That was how he broke his right arm. That was why he did what he did _that day_. That cursed day, the worst day in his aimless life. But did he want to tell Minseok all of this already? Would it cure him if he admitted that he wanted to die?

“You don’t have to answer that for now.”

Not knowing where the strength came from, he stood up abruptly from the couch.

“I know.”

And with an awkward bow, he excused himself out of the office room, out of Minseok’s sweet glazed words and prying gaze. He walked along the hall as if someone was chasing him; his steps hurried in fear, his breathing growing erratic. Quickening his pace seemed to be the only way to escape the suffocation.

He should’ve just stayed wasting himself in his room instead of talking.

* * *

* * *

_When they left the water and started to play, the Ugly Duckling tried to play with his brothers and sisters, too._

“Is there something you’re not telling us?”

He shifts his gaze to look at his brother at the side. The man flinches, seemingly in fear. Has he really turned into a monster that everyone is trying to slay now?

_They yelled, “Go away! We will not play with you! You are ugly. And you walk weird, too!”_

“Right here, Mr. Doh.” He gets back to the older man sitting right in front of him across the ugly grey table. He never thought that an interrogation room in the police station would look exactly like the ones he saw in movies. “If you want to win this, you would have to tell me everything about that night.”

_When Mama Duck was close by, she would not let them talk in this way. “Be nice!” she would scold. But she was not always close by._

“Win what?”

He watches as the man, who claimed himself to be his lawyer, exchanges glances with Seungsoo.

“This case, Mr. Doh.”

_One day, one of the yellow ducklings said to the Ugly Duckling, “You know what? You would do us a big favor if you just went away from here!”_

_All of them started to quack, “Get out! Get out! Get out!”_

“We’re trying to get the charges on you dropped here. And let me remind you again, they _should_ be dropped, because you didn’t do anything with malicious intention. So -”

“But I did it.”

_“Why won’t they let me stay here?” said the Ugly Duckling to himself. He hung his head down low._

He can actually tell Seungsoo’s blood is currently boiling in his body. “Stop talking like that!” his brother hisses.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re so eager to go to jail.”

Honestly, he’s quite confused at that. Why does it matter whether he goes to jail or not? Isn’t that what they want? To get rid of him, the thorn in the family? Are they not liking _how_ he leaves because it affects their image now?

_“Ah, they are right. I should go.”_

* * *

**sixty seven days**

before ???

When he was twenty four, he had told himself that it would be the age he started finding his way to happiness.

Maybe things would fall into their rightful places eventually. Maybe he would even meet the love of his life, if he still believed in finding the one. Maybe he would finally find the thing that could fix the emptiness inside him. Maybe he would start liking his life a little more and stop being bitter towards people around him. Maybe, just maybe, he could finally look forward to building his future.

In the age where he was using up the remnants of his hopes, he met Jongin.

Jongin was twenty three then, a year below him at college, both of them pursuing the same master degree. Their groups were put together in some classes for the whole semester. Their interaction started when they were randomly picked to be in the same presenting team, when Jongin offered to work on all of the slides and he had laughed at him before assuring him they could work on it together.

Being faced with Jongin’s goofy smile and genuinely funny jokes for at least four days a week, it was a given that he fell in love with him.

That was just how strong Jongin’s effect was on him. He, who had concluded that love was not meant for him, that he’d never want to do anything with love, that he’d never find the kind of love that he had dreamed of, fell for Jongin when the other didn’t even put that much effort to make him. Jongin was just there, existing, minding his own business, then there was him, head over heels, heart constricting whenever they were close to each other. It was foolish, severely foolish, how he was suddenly back to being nineteen, thinking about a certain person every night.

‘ _I would like to spend the rest of my life with this kind of person_ ’, he had thought to himself three months after befriending Jongin. It was too soon for him to say it, but he had thought that if he was given the chance to have something with Jongin, he would promise himself to be the one who gave more between them. He would be the fool for him. Jongin was just that amazing. Jongin was the kind of person whose flaws he was very willing to embrace. He, the one who was always known to be the one who would have the stronger grip in a relationship, really decided all of that. Again, that was just how strong Jongin’s effect on him was. That was how deep he had fallen for Jongin.

He let his crystallized heart crack open for Jongin. He let the guy waltz into his life, buying every doubtful thought and warning in his head with his bright, gummy smile and the crinkle on the corner of his eyes. He let Jongin get into his mind. He let Jongin make him question all of the bitterness and resentment he had regarding the warmth that would swirl in his chest whenever he locked eyes with Jongin’s honey brown ones. He let himself be an idiot while being fully aware about it - he was thriving in that fact. He let anything happen when it comes to Jongin.

He let things slide for Jongin.

Almost three years later, he finally found that _that_ was the start of his doom.

===

Jongin’s phone buzzed for the third time since the moment he arrived.

And just like before, Jongin swiftly pressed a button on the side of the phone to silence it and continued with his monologue about some people who got on his nerves at work; being a distributor specializing in buying and reselling inventory from gigantic manufacturers, Jongin was bound to meet various kinds of people, and even for an angelic heart like Jongin’s, it was just too much. Maybe those people were the one who kept ringing Jongin’s phone since the morning. And maybe Jongin didn’t pick up because, like other human beings, he got fed up.

He almost forgot that Jongin was a real person with a real life. He was too used with seeing Jongin as the idea of the perfect person who could save the last bits of his heart.

“Seriously, if only you were there, he would’ve pissed himself just with your stare. He’s scared of you, remember?”

Right, Jongin was talking about someone they mutually knew. He almost didn’t notice; he was busy staring at Jongin’s face while letting everything around them fade out. He forced his head to think of a reply, just to make Jongin sure he was listening. “Not sure about that now.”

“Oh believe me, he still is.” Jongin sighed lightly before taking a sip of his drink, eyes wandering around the cafeteria. “This is why you’re missed by everyone. No one is badass enough to face those dickwads but you.”

He was missed? What kind of nonsense was that? No one would desire his presence that much - not even himself. Next year, he’d still be here, and his friends would’ve forgotten about him. Someone like him was replaceable. If they really missed something, then it wasn’t him; they missed the idea of having a friend who was kind enough to pull strings of connections to help them with their businesses.

That was Doh Kyungsoo’s worth to his friends. Someone who granted favors.

Look where the favor fairy was now.

“Hey,” he heard Jongin’s gentle voice, “don’t you miss everyone?”

Strings tangled inside his head. That was a very unwelcomed question. “Who?”

“Well, our friends. Your own circle. People at home. Don’t you miss seeing them?”

He didn’t know what to say, what to think. He wasn’t sure of what he was missing - the people or the idea of having them around him. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to miss them or not. He was inching nearer and nearer to numbness anyway. “I do.” He lied, anyway. He was still trying to keep the last pieces of his image intact in front of Jongin alone. Lord, how privileged Jongin was.

“But then you made it clear that you don’t want to be visited.”

“Glad you remember.”

“You still let me come here anyway.”

See? Another example of him letting things slide for Jongin. He would always swallow his own words back whenever Jongin was involved.

“Thank you, though. For letting me come here.” Jongin’s words set a weight on him. “I clearly don’t know how to help, but please know that I want to if there’s any way for me to. I’m doing the least I could by visiting you. But if you ever start hating me being here, please let me know by then, okay?”

What was Jongin doing? Was he trying to instill the guilt inside him that he could use later whenever he saw fit? If he really ended up telling him that he hated his presence, would Jongin still be this nice by then? Or would Jongin just turn him into an even worse monster? He couldn’t read whatever it was on Jongin’s face. The constantly lurking suspicion was making him nauseous.

_You know you don’t have to come here every week_ , he wanted to say. _You know coming here is like rubbing salt on my wound that I kept blaming you for._

“When will you leave for Hawaii?” was what he managed to ask in one go instead.

Jongin seemed to be caught off-guard by the sudden change of topic. It must’ve been pathetically obvious that he was steering the conversation away because he couldn’t handle it anymore - he could see it in the way Jongin’s face softened, the way the gaze on him was almost patronizing. “January 13th if my schedule doesn’t change by then.”

The mention of the particular date got him looking up at Jongin. _You’re leaving right on the day we usually held our joint birthday party?_ “It’s a day before your birthday,” was what he murmured instead of the bitterness growing in his mind.

“And a day _after_ yours!”

“Won’t you be tired?”

Why did he even have to ask that?

“It’s a roughly eight hours flight. I can still make time to have some birthday cake with you.” The nonchalance in Jongin’s voice made him feel as if they were just having their small talk over coffee, as if they were sitting in his living room back in his condominium instead of the mental hospital’s cafeteria. “It already feels wrong that I’m going to celebrate my birthday without you. I should at least be here on the 13th.”

Warmth. It was the thing spreading in his chest, embracing him gently for one moment before suffocating him in its grip next. Just how ruined was he that he even despised genuine affection? “You don’t have to.”

_You don't have to do anything for me just because you think you’d be a monster otherwise._

"Are you kidding? It's, like, our tradition!" Jongin busted out a bubbly laugh. He didn't see it. He didn't understand that his blissfulness was tearing him apart. "Seriously, I've even been thinking about asking Dr. Kim if I could throw a small party for us here."

" _Kim Jongin_."

He didn't know where he had gained the strength from to call the name that loud. And he didn’t know if he was ready to deal with the shock in Jongin’s face caused by the unquestionable tone of his voice.

“Live your life.” He felt like punching himself for even doing this. “Don’t mind me. Go for your own birthday. I’m fine here. Fuck. I never even liked birthdays.”

He never liked birthdays. He never liked being reminded that in what was supposed to be a special day to him, he was never made feel special. He was always the one who took care of the birthday parties for everyone in the house - including himself. He existed to serve everyone else. It was that simple. Celebrating his birth was like celebrating his pathetic life.

Until Jongin came along, looked at him with wide eyes and told him, ‘ _hey, our birthdays are only a day apart, why don’t we have a joint party?_ ’, and for three years, he celebrated with his _best friend_. Jongin was the only reason he had birthday cakes that he didn’t buy himself.

In hindsight, Jongin must’ve pitied him so much that he was willing to share his special occasion with someone he had only befriended for months. Now he doesn’t want more pity and fake niceties. Not even from the only one who was ever bothered to be genuinely nice to him.

“I’m sorry.”

The rumbling inside his head subsided immediately the moment he heard that word through Jongin’s faint voice.

And that was the moment he knew he had ruined another moment between them again.

“I really thought you’d be down with the idea.” There was a diaphanous smile on Jongin’s face. Forced and awkward. He hated himself even more. “I mean… I’m saying that it’s what I really want to do. I just didn’t expect that you wouldn’t want to. I was only thinking about what I want, after all.”

He wanted to grab Jongin by the shoulder and shake him hard so he could see that no, it wasn’t like that, it was _his_ fault for being difficult, for not knowing when to accept kindness in the middle of nursing his own broken soul. It was always his own fault.

But, of course, he stayed frozen on the couch, letting Jongin pick up the pieces for him.

“I don’t know you anymore,” Jongin spoke out a moment after. “Maybe I never knew you before. Maybe the Doh Kyungsoo I knew was the one you wanted me to see. But that’s okay, Kyungsoo. I can just get to know you again, really, it’s not a problem. I don’t care about spending months or years to get to know you again. What I care about is whether you let me learn about you again or not.”

It was sweet. What Jongin had implied was sweet. The thought of knowing that someone was willing to learn about this version of him was endearingly sweet. Almost too good to be true. But the tears that started to pool on the corner of his eyes weren’t tears of joy that he was supposed to have because of being touched by Jongin’s noble heart. No. They were tears of resentment, because -

“How would you get to know me if I don’t even know myself?”

\- how would anyone ever know him if he didn’t even know who he was supposed to be?

How would he let anyone learn about him if he didn’t even want to do anything with himself because everything inside his head was too ugly to look at?

“That’s why I’m here, Jongin,” he lamented, the name tasting venomous on the tip of his tongue, “because no one knows who I am anymore. Not even me.”

His tears kept falling, and falling, and he kept cursing at himself for it. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be so messed up like this. He never even asked to be in this world, and yet he was the one bearing the consequences of living. Where was the justice in this?

His sobs grew even more severe in the span of seconds. It was as if he was starting to lose control over his body quickly, as if he was free falling off a cliff after doing a jump he didn’t even remember consenting to. Why did he say all of that? Why did he have to tell Jongin that? Why did he have to spit those words at Jongin as if the poor guy was responsible for everything he was going through?

“Why did you have to come here?” he choked out, looking away when he noticed Jongin move from his seat. “Why did you have to come?”

_Why did you have to come here and remind me of everything wrong in my life?_

“Kyungsoo? What’s happening?”

For a moment, he was confused with Jongin’s sudden question, until he finally realized that he was panting. Suffocation started to kick in as his body rocked along each breath that he took forcefully, chest constricting in each second that passed by. He couldn’t focus his eyes on anything - he didn’t even notice Jongin already sitting next to him. He flinched when he felt the warmth of Jongin’s hand on his shoulder.

“Kyungsoo?!”

_Shut up_ . He brought a hand up and pressed it against his chest. Why was it hurting so much when it was fine minutes before? For God’s sake, there wasn’t even anything wrong with his heart or lungs. _Please shut up_.

Jongin didn’t shut up anyway, but at least he wasn’t talking to him anymore. By the time the ringing in his head got too loud, he still managed to catch Jongin’s panicked voice calling for the nurses. He wanted to let himself loose in rage and destroy everything before himself. Whatever they were going to do to him, it would be in vain, and they were fools for pretending that they weren’t aware of it.

No one could save him.

No one, _no one_ , could save him.

===

“ _So, are we going to talk about our bet or what?_ ”

His skies started cracking that night in a nightclub in Gangnam-gu.

Their team in a company they were interning at had just won a tender for a project funded by the government. The project was quite huge for beginners like them, and both of them, being in a partnership for the proposal, had spent blood and sweat working on it. They had achieved something together, and that alone was enough for him to be high even off alcohol. He was just sitting on the stool, his back resting against the edge of the bar counter, facing Jongin who was dancing lightly to the rhythm of the currently playing track with a can of beer in his hand.

In that moment, he didn’t know it was possible to fall for someone even deeper than he already had. His feelings were getting dangerous and he paid no heed.

“ _Always so glad to be the optimist one between us!_ ” Jongin had shouted at him so he could hear him properly amidst the loud noise. “ _Now listen to me well!_ ”

He had laughed so loud. Probably because of the alcohol already kicking in his system. Probably because he was too hyped up to behave. Probably because he was so sick of acting natural and almost uninterested around Jongin who was the reason he couldn’t get a grip of himself. Thus, he laughed out loud, even influencing Jongin with it.

“ _What’s so funny?_ ” Jongin had asked.

And back then, Doh Kyungsoo was a smooth talker. He didn’t have to gain a particular amount of strength to think of what he should say and actually speak; he was eloquent and great with words, knowing well that people liked his voice. So he didn’t even have to think much when he told Jongin, “ _you know I’d always listen to you. You own my life, you know?_ ”

He wasn’t thinking straight. That was his excuse. He wasn’t thinking straight when he had spilled those words to the similarly half drunk man doing small moves in front of him. And Jongin wasn’t really paying attention; Jongin didn’t see the yearning dripping from his eyes, heavy and in flame. Even if he was sober, all that Jongin would ever see on his face was the adoration from a brother-like friend, the twin to his soul, the friend he had always wanted. Jongin would never see that he wanted him more than he had ever wanted anything.

He was still dealing with the fact that the only person he saw couldn’t see him.

“ _Okay then. Stay still!_ ”

He was still dealing with the faint light of silly hope inside his head, which he had kept so carefully from being blown off throughout the years of loving someone who was loving someone else. He was still dealing with the realization that his love was wasted and burnt even before it could be seen.

Thus, when Jongin was suddenly towering over him, the glow on his face blinking under the club’s dim lights, his eyes glimmering with the underlying excitement and a little bit of lightheadedness, he wondered where he was. He wondered at which part of moving on he was. He wondered whether he already took a step forward or not just yet. He wondered and thought, if he was still stuck in the same spot, in the same place, still sitting in the cafe that day a couple of years ago when the world of Jongin and him which he had built in his head crumbled into pieces, then it would be fine. He wouldn’t blame himself. Because, after all, there was no moving on from those beautiful eyes. There was no moving on from the way the corner of Jongin’s lips was pulled up into a light, almost shy smile.

There was no moving on, and he pretended he didn’t know it, because in the future, when it would hurt too much, he wouldn’t blame himself so hard.

“ _I’m going to do it tomorrow night._ ”

There was no moving on.

He got frozen. Time would move on for everybody else, and he wouldn’t know it.

“ _I’m going to propose!_ ”

===

“Summer sky.”

“Too bright.”

“The beach.”

“Too hot.”

“Chocolate cake.”

“Diabetes.”

His gaze wavered from the walls and shifted to Minseok, who just chuckled probably from something he had said. “Indeed,” the psychiatrist murmured. “A house?”

“Inconvenient.”

“Home?”

This was when his tongue got tied. He couldn’t summarize all of the thoughts in his head that bursted out the moment the word was mentioned. “I don’t know,” was what he chose to say.

“Alright.” He noticed Minseok scribbling something down, and it immediately kicked the nauseousness off. “Hurt?”

“The only thing I know.”

He ignored the way Minseok didn’t jump to another word right away like before.

“Father?”

Good man. Tyrant. The smartest person he knew. Manipulator. Wise. Selfish. “Hates me now.”

“Mother?”

“Is probably trying not to hate me too.” But she couldn’t. He knew she would never hate him.

“Seungsoo?”

“Entitled.”

“Haesoo?”

“Should’ve been the second and last child.”

Minseok was done scribbling by the time he tried to take over the control of his own breathing. “Doh Kyungsoo?”

Doh Kyungsoo.

How would he describe Doh Kyungsoo?

How would he describe himself, when he was also someone he didn’t know?

“An anomaly in this world.”

One thing he was sure of was that he felt estranged from everything he had ever known.

“And… Kim Jongin?”

For that, he shifted his gaze fully towards Minseok. Why? Why the name? Why did he have to be reminded of that person who must’ve been hating him now?

What was Kim Jongin, anyway?

Kim Jongin was just someone. Just a guy, a year younger than him. Just someone he met in college. Just the guy who became someone regular in his life three years ago.

But Kim Jongin was the one who breathed the flutter of butterflies into his stomach, who flickered the flame in his chest, who had captivated him with that blinding smile, who had clutched him in his arms with those kind eyes and even kinder words, who made him so brave to dream of a love so beautifully requited.

“Kim Jongin…”

Because Kim Jongin was his first actual love.

“Brother in law.”

And Kim Jongin was the last straw for him before he decided to just stop existing so he could _stop feeling_.

* * *

* * *

_That night, the Ugly Duckling flew over the farmyard fence. He flew till he landed on the other side of the lake._

_There he met two grown-up ducks._

He wonders why he’s still here.

_“Can I please stay here for awhile?” said the Ugly Duckling. “I have nowhere else to be.”_

_“What do we care?” said one of the ducks. “Just don’t get in our way.”_

He wonders why he’s still sitting in a fancy looking meeting room that belongs to the headquarter building of his father’s company. He wonders why he’s still sitting at the even fancier looking long desk, his lawyer facing him.

“Now’s just the two of us, Kyungsoo.” The lawyer takes his glasses off, sets it aside on the desk, and leans forward slowly with a sigh. “This will go off the record, so you might as well spare me no details. Tell me.”

_“Woof! Woof!”_

_Suddenly a big hungry dog came tearing by, chasing the two ducks. They quickly flew up in the air, and their feathers fell down on the ground._

Nothing. He had been feeling nothing all the way from the mental hospital to here. He had been feeling nothing when he stepped into the building that used to be his playground. He had been going well so far, feeling nothing.

Now this man is trying to provoke him. But then, does he even have an ounce of energy left to be provoked?

Still, he asks, “Tell you what?”

_The poor Ugly Duckling froze in fear. The dog sniffed and sniffed at the Ugly Duckling, then turned away._

The lawyer sighs again. Good. He’s getting tired.

_“I am too ugly even for the big hungry dog to want,” said the Ugly Duckling with his head hung low._

“Tell me what happened on the night of January 14th.”

* * *

**fifty three days**

before January 14th

There was a white box on the small table near his bed.

_Again_.

It had been two weeks since the scene he made at the hospital’s cafeteria. Two weeks since he told Jongin to, in all sense, _fuck off_. And for two weeks, he hadn’t seen the guy’s face. He spent the time well, blaming and hating himself even more for what happened and the absence of the only person who genuinely cared to check up on him in person. It was so ridiculous that he still managed to disappoint someone when he was already in this state.

And this was the second Sunday where he received the box of donuts that Jongin always brought for him.

If only the sugar glazed donuts could save his soul.

Just like last week, he picked the box up off the bedside drawer and brought it out of his room. He tried to speed up as much as possible until he reached the cafeteria.

Just like last week, he stopped by the food counter and wordlessly handed the box of donuts over to the lady who was standing by the soup pan.

And just like last week, he left without saying anything, thunder raging in his head.

===

_Hi, Kyungsoo, it’s Jongin._

_I’m so sorry for what happened last week. I hope you’ve been getting sleep and eating well._

_Please enjoy this today, too. I kind of wooed my way to having extra glazed donuts this morning._

_Happy Sunday!_

===

On the morning of _that_ day, he threw up.

He really thought he had drunk enough alcohol the night before to suppress the feelings inside. But he was wrong, so ridiculously wrong, for it only became even worse when he woke up. The realization kicked in his system like poison, spreading all over his body to consume him from the inside. As he lurched forward whenever he gagged above the toilet bowl, the words became so clear in his head.

The man he loved was marrying his sister today.

And he, who was supposed to be the best man, was wasted in the bathroom instead of preparing his own speech.

===

“I finally brushed my teeth after three days.”

Minseok had asked which things made him feel at least less better lately, and it was quite a long process of thinking for him until he figured out that the psychiatrist wasn’t looking for a poetic, emotional answer. It was, after all, a way to assess him, mental state wise. The man was paid to help him think.

“That’s great.” Minseok gave him a nod of appreciation before sipping from the cup in his hand. There was no clipboard in sight, which somehow made him feel much less queasy. That small detail made the whole atmosphere feel much lighter; it was as if he was just hanging out with a friend.

Still, his default mode was bitter and pessimistic. “That’s gross,” he murmured almost inaudibly. Months ago, he couldn’t even rest peacefully at night if he hadn’t showered and brushed his teeth and wasn’t assured that he smelled good enough to go to bed. This morning, he couldn’t even take a shower without leaning against the wall of the bathroom.

“Well, maybe,” the psychiatrist shrugged nonchalantly, “and if that is, so what, then?”

Baffled, he finally looked at Minseok in the eyes with a frown so deep. “But people aren’t supposed to…” _To do things they’re not expected to do._

He watched as the man chuckled. “Oh? Who said so?” Minseok leaned forward to put his cup on the coffee table that separated them. “Your personal hygiene is both your own right _and_ responsibility. When your mind is too occupied with working your thoughts and emotions out, you tend to put everything else on pending. Personal hygiene is one of them. It’s the same as that time you didn’t want to eat because it meant you would have to go to the cafeteria or someone would have to deliver the food to your room, and you hated both options because you couldn’t make sense out of them, soyou just chose not to eat. You couldn’t afford to be aware of all of the details in your life because your head is still sorting things out, and that’s perfectly fine. One thing you have to keep in mind is that no one in this world has the right to hold that against you.”

The explanation was supposed to make him feel less pathetic. And it did make him less pathetic, but at the same time it added to the bitterness inside him, because he never expected he would be at this point where he couldn’t even pick up the toothbrush because he just _couldn’t_. “I feel stupid.”

Minseok didn’t react to that. He didn’t expect any reaction either. There was no one, not even himself, who could react to that.

“I just realized,” the psychiatrist spoke again, “you haven’t told me something yet.”

Trepidation started to kick him in the guts when he realized that Minseok was carefully probing. He kept telling himself to relax, that it was Minseok, it was just Minseok, the guy was paid to ask him these things, he wouldn’t judge. “About what?” he still asked, despite knowing fully what he was going to be asked about.

“What actually happened that day.”

Pretending to be clueless was starting to be addictive for him. “What day?”

“The day you nearly broke your arm in a bike crash.”

Of course Minseok would still be curious about that. Everyone was still curious, too. Except that Minseok was paid to be curious about it, while others were just looking for the excuse to judge him. The second son of one of the business tycoons in South Korea being so reckless that he broke his arm and almost died after crashing his Harley Davidson motorbike was quite the talk of the town. It was to the point the Seoul branch of the expensive brand had to release a statement about how they were sure there was no fault in the specific product that was sold to the Doh young master. ‘ _How did he end up like that?_ ’ ‘ _Has he always been reckless?_ ’ ‘ _I heard he used to do illegal motorbike racing in high school._ ’

No one, literally no one, wondered what was actually in his head and chest that day when he rode away from the five star hotel where his sister’s wedding took place. No one cared enough to wonder what he was thinking, what he was _feeling_.

So, just like what he and his family have told everyone who probed; “It was an accident.”

“Yes. A traffic accident, of course. But how? What happened before the crash?”

It was ridiculous, how his right arm was suddenly hurting at the reminiscence of that moment.

“I lost control.” He breathed the words out so easily, not knowing himself whether he was lying or not.

Minseok’s gaze on him in the middle of the short silence was making him feel even more uncomfortable. “You lost control. Were you not in the proper state to ride?”

He gulped down something bitter in his throat. Something with spikes that dug into the walls. He wondered what was wrong with him; he always thought that people not wanting to understand him was the main problem, but now that someone was trying to, all he wanted to do was to run away. What did he actually want, honestly?

“Can we talk about something else?” he said in one go, the words almost jumbled and blended with one another.

“You don’t want to talk about this?”

“Not yet.”

“So you’ll talk about it eventually, right?”

“I don’t know.” That one was not a lie for sure.

“Alright, I’m archiving that question, then.” Minseok then grabbed his clipboard. “This is the third question on the list. Maybe you’d like to answer the first two? How about this one… why, do you think, are you here?”

When he first came to the care of the mental hospital around five months ago, that was the first question Minseok had thrown at him and caught him off-guard with. He had expected the psychiatrist to start their relationship with mundane talks about how he thought about the weather and what he loved to do to ease the burden on his shoulder.

‘ _In your understanding, why are you here?_ ’

He couldn’t answer it. He was the one who willingly walked into the place, but when he was asked that, he couldn’t think of anything to say. Suddenly he felt like an idiot for being so sure that this place was exactly what he needed.

‘ _You had your brother sign the forms, but I could tell you’re the one who wants you here the most. But why?_ ’

He felt like an idiot when he realized that this wasn’t the place he needed, because there was nowhere he belonged to. There was no place for him. The only reason he came to this place was because -

“It was recommended. By the doctor who handled me. He recommended it to my parents. I agreed immediately.”

“That, I know about. Why? Why did you agree immediately?”

“Because that was the best for everyone.”

“How did you know that?”

\- because if he wasn’t here, he would’ve been a burden to everyone in his life.

“I could see it. My parents… they liked the idea.” His eyes wandered off past Minseok’s unreadable face. “They kept saying that it wasn’t an option, but I knew they wanted it.”

“Why did you think so?”

“I _knew_ so.”

“How did you?”

Because by being here, he had saved everyone from further humiliation.

“It was something my father said.”

“What was it?”

Because by being here, he -

“He could lay low until the gossips die down and people stop talking about us.”

That was the longest sentence he said without pausing in two weeks, and it just had to be a reminiscence about the day he finally saw his worth in his parents’ eyes.

“What did you make out of that?”

“They were ashamed. Of me.”

They must’ve finally embraced their hatred for him that they were willing to hand him over to a mental hospital so he could be fixed and returned in good shape.

“Maybe they just thought they should give you the professional help you needed. I’ve heard from your sister that your mother is still saying you should be home.”

Oh, how many times had he beaten himself up for thinking so negatively of his own family and wanted to think that way? He had lost count. He couldn’t even believe he had actually tried to.

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But if it was like that… why haven’t they come to take me home?”

His mother teared up when he was settled to spend some time here. His father kept saying that he would only be staying until he felt better because he was supposed to be with them. His brother took care of everything and even dropped him here, spent a few hours to talk to Minseok about technicals, and stayed for a couple more just to sit and have a meal with him. His sister visited at least once every three days for the first month that he was here.

All that, for what? When just with one sentence, they stopped fighting for him.

“Weren’t you the one who told them not to bother you here?”

When just with the words of ‘ _please don’t bother me here_ ’, they stopped their attempt to care about him.

Of course, he was the one who asked them not to come. They were probably respecting his personal space, trying to keep his headspace as calm as possible. But couldn’t they have been more of those pitiful families in movies who would rather barge into this place and drag him away? If any family’s first instinct was to keep everyone together, then why didn’t his own do that for him?

Unless they saw it as the chance to get rid of him. To finally live as the perfectly balanced family. The reason why he still asked his sister how the things at home were was to prove his theory; they were fine without him. They never needed him. His presence never mattered that much for them.

“Was that why you hate them?” The poised tone in Minseok’s voice didn’t make the wound sting any less. “Because you think they hate you.”

It wasn’t that easy. He didn’t resent them out of spite. “I don’t hate them.” He shook his head. “At least as their own person. I hate… I hate that I’m related to them. I hate that I was born… into their home. I hate… I hate that they gave birth to me.”

He hated the way he existed. That was the source of every single horrible thing happening in his life and even more horrible thoughts swirling in his head.

“You have this huge amount of hatred inside you. And I don’t think it’s only directed to the people in your life. If not the most, it’s related majorly to you yourself.”

Suppressing the sudden burning feeling in the back of his eyes, he threw his head on the headrest of the armchair he was sitting on, looking up at the white ceiling above them. White. The color was starting to make him feel nauseous. “I hate everything,” he murmured, in all honesty. “Nothing matters to me anymore.”

He didn’t, couldn’t, find meaning in anything now. Life was looking so unappealing to him. To exist had become such a hassle. It was the scariest thing, to find that he was the wrong variable in his own equation.

“Then, to summarize all of what you’ve told me, how would you describe your life?”

That question successfully got him looking right at the psychiatrist again. His life? That useless, overhyped thing? “Doctor, do you know that children tale… The Ugly Duckling?” He waited until Minseok nodded. “That’s my life. Except that… it’s a little bit better. Than mine.”

“But didn’t the ‘ugly duckling’ find out that he was actually a beautiful bird and fly with his long lost peers? He finally realized his true worth and moved past the hurtful words everyone gave him through his growth.”

He chuckled bitterly, chest constricting with a wave of boiling resentment washing over it. “That was the problem. With the story. It ended there. Him… finally finding the ones he belonged with. But what happened after that? How about the aftermath… of the shits he went through? How could he accept everything so easily? What if the reflection he saw on the water was never his? What if he… he was just creating an imagination… where he finally found peace? What if he ended up… spending the rest of his life fooling himself? Maybe that was why the story ended there. So children won’t know the ugly truth of what happened next.”

He hoped he didn’t scare the psychiatrist away with what he had said. He couldn’t afford losing the only person left in this world who was still willing to deal with him.

“And you?”

“I’m different. I’ve accepted that I’m a fucked up mess. Nothing can faze me anymore. I’m damned numb now.”

“If that’s the case, then what’s up with you and Kim Jongin?”

His heart sank deep inside him. It was as if he was pushed to a free fall and was dreading the moment he hit the bottom. “What about him?”

“You got yourself into a crash right on his wedding day. You dreaded his visits every Sunday yet still went to see him. You had an anxiety attack two weeks ago while you were talking to him, and he hasn’t come here ever since, only sending you boxes of donuts _which_ you gave up for the cafeteria. You said nothing could faze you now. You said you’re numb. Then what happened back there?”

Kim Jongin. Again, and again. It really felt as if his entire world revolved around that guy. “We were talking about my family.”

“But isn’t he a part of your family too? He’s your brother in law, after all. Unless he’s much more than that to you.”

“ _Doctor_ ,” he grumbled, “what do you want to know, exactly?”

Minseok took a moment to stare at him. “Tell me at least one of these two things; the thing between you and Jongin, or what happened before the crash that day. I have a peculiar feeling that both of them are connected.”

===

_Hi, Kyungsoo. It’s Jongin._

_Here’s a box of donuts, again. I hope I’ve been earning some points with them._

_I’ve been thinking a lot about the things you said. And I figured out that I was really being inconsiderate to you. I should’ve respected your decision more like Haesoo and Seungsoo had suggested. I should’ve given you the choice to have me around you or not. I promise you, I’ll never appear in front of you again unless you ask me to. I promise I’ll always try my best to understand you. Please don’t let what happened between us two weeks ago hinder your progress._

_I will miss you a lot, though. Until the day you want to see me again, I’ll note interesting events down so I could tell you about them later._

_I am so sorry once again._

_Eat and drink a lot!_

===

On his way to the Church, he only thought of making it in time for the preparation before the wedding ceremony would start.

The huge relief on Jongin’s face was both endearing and provoking indignation at the same time. ‘ _There’s my best man!_ ’ was the first thing the groom shouted upon seeing him. As if he couldn’t be more pathetic, he ran all the way from the entrance door to the spot before the altar to meet Jongin. Helped Jongin fix his tie. Gripped on Jongin’s shoulders to calm him down. Told Jongin the guy was good to go.

_‘I’m so blessed to have you as my best friend._ ’

In his spot behind Jongin, as he watched his sister walk down the aisle, arms linked with their father, he only thought of not messing up his only job delivering the ring for the bride and groom.

Haesoo’s face was brighter than the lights. Jongin’s smile could possibly rival the sun itself. He quickly gave the rings for them to exchange with each other. The preacher said something along the line of ‘ _speak up or forever hold your peace_ ’, and nothing came into his mind. He only hoped that the process would end as soon as possible. When it finally ended, he stepped back to let the just-announced wife and husband have their moment before they would walk out of the Church. He didn’t expect Jongin to spare a glance at him.

‘ _See you at the hotel!_ ’

When he arrived at the hotel and met the newlyweds in their hotel room, he only thought of making sure that they both had eaten at least something light so they would have the energy to proceed with the big wedding party awaiting in a few hours.

He helped Jongin change his suit and pick a tie. Helped Haesoo with the tangled straps of her heels. Cracked some jokes he generated from the events that happened in the morning of the day, made both Jongin and Haesoo almost choke on their snacks. Then he excused himself to practice his best-man speech. It was as if he was dreaming and he was aware that it was just a dream, thus he let things unfold because he knew they weren’t real after all.

‘ _Kyungsoo, I mean it. Thank you so, so much. I wouldn’t have gone through the preparation calmly if you weren’t by my side._ ’

But in the moment that he was about to start his speech, in front of hundreds of pairs of eyes watching him, in front of the newlyweds looking up at him with expectant eyes, he finally figured out what he was actually thinking.

He was thinking - he had been thinking since the moment he woke up, that everything was wrong.

Everything was wrong, everything was in vain.

He couldn’t speak at first. Suddenly all the words he had written on the piece of half crumpled paper spread in front of him are blurry. He couldn’t read them, he couldn’t decipher, he couldn’t understand.

Then he decided to just give them a piece of the current state of his mind.

‘ _Be grateful, all of you, who are loved by the ones you love._

_Be grateful, all of you, who are loved as much as you deserve to be._

_Be grateful, all of you, who are loved by yourselves._

_Congratulations, my best friend and my sister, for having the chance to love and be loved._

_Congratulations, for the love._ ’

And as he watched Jongin and Haesoo having their first dance as spouses, as his eyes started to get blurry for real due to the fresh tears pooling, he thought that that was it. That was his limit.

That was his limit in pretending that he was fine with being forsaken and taken for granted.

And on his way to his motorbike, he thought that he had no energy left to deal with the reality after putting up with the pretense for so long.

So he rode away with no intention to actually arrive somewhere.

===

It rained at night.

Rain in Autumn meant even more cold seeping through the cracks of the window. He curled himself into a ball on the bed, clutching on his blanket. The sound of the water drops pitter pattering outside was like the perfect background music to the sorrow in his head. The void was getting bigger and bigger, and he felt like it was already too late to try closing the gap. He was beyond fixing. _If_ fixing was even possible to begin with.

He had accepted that everything in his life was wrong, but then what? What was he supposed to do with that? Was he even supposed to do something? Or was he allowed to just let everything be ruined until there was nothing left to salvage?

His train of thoughts were disturbed with a knock on his door.

He chose to ignore it. Even as the knocking grew impatient, he only pulled the blanket tighter against his skin. He was not in the proper shape to deal with a possibly crazy person who had the audacity to knock on his door at ten in the evening.

But then he heard it, almost faint behind the door.

“Please, Mr. Kim, you shouldn’t be here.”

And there was only one ‘Mr. Kim’ who knew where exactly his room was.

“I just need to talk to him. I won’t be long. Please.”

“Mr. Kim, it’s too late for a visit. You can come back tomorrow.”

“No, you don’t understand -”

He followed his instincts; he immediately hopped off the bed and half ran towards the door. He opened it hastily and found a nurse and a very, _very_ soaking wet Kim Jongin in front of his room. The guy must’ve been drenched in the rain on his way here, but _why_? “Jongin? Is something wrong?”

“Mr. Doh, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience -”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll let him in.”

“But that’s against the rules of -”

“Thanks.” He grabbed Jongin by the hand and dragged him inside before slamming the door on the nurse’s face. He took his time to observe the messed up state that Jongin was in. “What’s going on?”

Jongin only stared at him for a moment, eyes dim, lips quivering from the cold. Something about the whole atmosphere told him that he was going to regret letting Jongin in.

“I’ll get a towel,” he murmured, already turning around.

In the same second, Jongin finally spoke. “Can you tell me what happened that day?”

_Oh_ , he was so going to regret letting Jongin in. “What… what day?”

“My wedding day. That night you left the party. What happened?”

He turned to look at Jongin again. “I crashed my bike. I thought the entire South Korea already knew.”

Jongin looked very troubled, wiping the water on his face with trembling hands. “I’m so sorry for barging in like this. I knew I said in the letter I sent you this morning that I would never show up in front of you unless you want me to. But I need to know. I need to know.”

“Letter? What letter… know about _what_?”

“About what happened before you got into the crash.”

He couldn’t help but let the annoyance show on his face. “First Minseok, now you? Why does everyone want to know? What are you going to do? Even if you know.”

“Maybe I asked it the wrong way.” Jongin shook his head. “Did you get yourself into a crash on purpose?”

There was a sudden buzz ringing loudly in his head.

“I don’t understand.”

He didn’t understand how Jongin could guess that.

“Your Dad told me something. I asked him why he agreed so easily about putting you here. I was… I behaved beyond how I was allowed to. He got mad, and then said something to me. Something about the crash probably not being accidental.”

Of course his father caught a whiff. That old man always had his ways to analyze things the right way. He just didn’t think that his father would actually do something to cover it instead of confronting him about it. “He suspected I was going to kill myself.”

If his father had suspected that it was an attempt of suicide, why didn’t he ask him anything about it? Why did he sign him off to his place right away instead?

And how, _how the fuck_ , did he get the correct idea about that?

“It wasn’t true, right?” Jongin took a step closer to him. “Please tell me it wasn’t.”

“Did he tell you… how he came to think like that?”

He knew his father definitely said something from the way Jongin’s face turned even darker.

“Just please - please tell me that it wasn’t true. It was an accident, right? You said you lost control. That was just it, right?”

Ah, the generic lie he told everyone who asked. ‘ _I lost control._ ’ Everyone bought it very well. Except Minseok, because he was supposed to notice the false nature in that excuse. It worked on Jongin too - until his father said whatever he said to him. Just what did his father know?

“Why does it matter?” Why did it matter whether he accidentally crashed himself on the asphalt or purposely let go of the handles? “Why do you ask?” What would Jongin even do with the truth? Just for the sake of the peace of his mind? Then what about him, the one who had to reminisce about the worst moment of his life?

Jongin seemed to get the message. He must’ve finally put the pieces together after spending months being so bothered with the way he didn’t quite understand why his _best friend_ was living in a mental hospital. He must’ve finally seen the fault in him. Took him so long.

“You could’ve died.”

_Yes._ “I know.” _That was the plan._

“Why did you do it? You could’ve told me. You could’ve just told me, we would have talked it out.”

“Told you what?”

“Anything.” The crestfallen look on Jongin’s face was making him confused; who was the one actually in pain here? “Anything that you could’ve told me.”

“There was nothing. It was all me. Talking to you wouldn’t have done anything.”

“You didn’t know that -”

“Why are you so worked up about this? Are you pissed? Because I almost ruined your wedding day?”

“How could you even think like that?!”

“Or what, Jongin? Are you scared that I almost killed myself because of you? Because relax, you’re not the only mistake in my life. You want to know why I tried to kill myself? I’m telling you now. You want me to talk, right? It’s because I _hate_ living. I hate myself, and I hate that I do. I hate that I’m so fucking unimportant that everyone lives perfectly well without me around. I hate that I hate my own family even if they take me for granted. I hate the way I feel so unloved, I hate the way I hate the idea of love but also want it at the same time, I hate that I always have my hopes high about love even when I’ve been hurt by that for so many times. I hate that my life is so pointless that it feels so exhausting just to breathe. I hate that I can’t see a future for me because I’m just so, so fucking lost. So yeah, right, it was so fucking stupid for me to fall in love with you, because wow, of course, how could a man love another man? What a stain to the pristine clean family. It’s true that I felt so fucking sick whenever I got reminded that I fell in love with my own best friend, even more when you started dating my own sister, and _even more_ when you proposed to her, so no wonder that wedding day was the last straw it took for me to go insane. But no, no, Kim Jongin, I didn’t attempt killing myself just because of not being loved back by you. It’s because I’m a fucking anomaly in this world, because I have no reason to exist, because not having the reason to exist is so fucking tiring. Not you. Not you, oh God, never. _Who the fuck do you think you are?_ ”

Now that he had let out the jumbled words, now that he had let out the ugliness of his dark side, he wondered if Jongin also regretted that there was Doh Kyungsoo in this world.

Maybe it was the right thing to let his thoughts out like that and let Jongin see him in his most honest state. Or maybe it was better to just keep pretending he was also confused about himself. Maybe it was better to just keep the words in, because no matter how he conveyed them, they would still fail in the end. Maybe, just maybe, there was no correct way to handle this matter, to navigate around it, and they were just meant to break like this. Maybe he was meant to finally break like this after years of desperately holding his cracked pieces together. Maybe Jongin was just that unlucky to be in the wrong place and at the wrong time to be the one who witnessed his downfall.

Maybe Jongin didn’t care. Maybe Jongin _did_ care and was starting to regret ever doing so. He couldn’t really tell. He couldn’t really recognize the look on Jongin’s face through his blurred sight. One thing he was sure of was that Jongin was certainly not happy with what he just heard.

“Dad was right,” he continued, because it felt like the right thing to do, because he felt like he needed to tie this mess up - even if he almost couldn’t find his voice. “It was a suicide attempt. I didn’t lose control. I let go.”

His right arm started to sting again. Ridiculous. It was already healed. Why was it hurting again?

“I was tired. So tired. I wanted it to end. I wanted to end everything.”

The pain got even more severe as he recalled the moment he let go of the handles of his motorbike when it was going fast enough to throw him off in the next second.

“Now what?” He wiped the tears on his cheeks harshly with his trembling hand, trying so hard not to lose grip on his breathing. “You know that now. Then what?”

What would Jongin do now that he knew about everything? What would Jongin do with that amount of baggage in his hands? Judging by the deafening silence that followed along the aftermath, Jongin must’ve been so horrified with the chaos he just saw.

It was the first time that he saw the look of terror in Jongin’s eyes.

“Your Dad… he said,” the poor guy still tried to speak, “he said…”

“I don’t care.” _Tell me._ “I don’t fucking care.” He covered his ears while tears started to roll down his face once more. “Stop.” _What did he tell you?_

Jongin looked so lost. Good for him, at least the guy got a glimpse of what he had been dealing with almost everyday. “Kyungsoo, you’re my best friend…”

He wanted to throw up.

“You could’ve told me. Kyungsoo, you could’ve told me.”

“Why?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Because you would’ve loved me back?”

It was a huge relief that Jongin didn’t answer the question. No matter what Jongin would say, he knew he wouldn’t be able to deal with it. Better just pretend that Jongin never heard him.

They spent a few minutes frozen on their respective spots. Jongin, looking like a boulder had just been dropped on him, and him, wishing that the ground would split open so he could jump into the cracks and disappear. Why hadn’t he disappeared? It was for everyone’s sake. Everyone would be better off without him, they knew it, and yet they still had the audacity to be petrified upon knowing he was willing to leave the world himself. He didn’t know who was the hypocrite in this story; people around him who acted like it would be a big deal if he left, or him who acted like it wouldn’t matter to him if they would be even happier once he was gone.

Suddenly he caught Jongin’s voice, sounding hoarse and void. “I’m sorry.”

And then the guy spun around on his heels and walked out of his room.

He told himself it was alright; it was the best outcome he could ever ask for. Jongin was not literally sorry, he knew, the guy just wanted to leave here as fast as he could. That apology was to sever the ties between them. He told himself it was okay. That was what he deserved. Abandonment. After everything he had done and said? That was still merciful enough.

He slowly fell on his knees, then on his bottom, then soon enough he was laying on his side on the tiles, and eventually, he curled himself into a ball, the cold from the floor being the only thing that tethered him to the ugly reality. Good thing that he didn’t think of turning the lights on when he had let Jongin in. This way, he could pretend the darkness was swallowing him.

_Why am I like this?_

Slowly, he lifted his head from the floor, only to slam it down back. Lifted his head again, then slammed it down again. Maybe he could knock some senses into his own head this way.

_Why am I still here?_

Maybe he could shrug off the thoughts that were swarming into his head this way. No wonder why everyone hated him. What was there to like about him? What was there left to hold onto about him after what he had done and said? No wonder why he was so unloved. No one, in their sane mind, would waste their time on him. All he did was push people away before they could do it to him _then_ blame them for not reaching back to him. Why did such a person like him have to be born and exist? Someone much better could’ve been born in his stead. They could’ve and would’ve been loved, because they would’ve been worth it. Not like him. Not like the miserable lump that he was.

_Why am I still breathing?_

He kept banging his head on the ground over and over again.

_Why am I…_

===

“He was crying. While looking at the both of you. I didn’t find out at that moment - I confirmed my suspicion instead. I never believed his mother’s words about him before, because, honestly? Who would’ve actually thought? But she kept insisting that something was off about him. I told her it was for her to figure out, because I don’t deal with my children’s… _personal_ feelings. But I do have keen eyes about that. I just didn’t expect to be the one who figured it out first. Then the next thing I knew, he stormed off the hotel, and not even an hour later we were informed that he was in the hospital and he just crashed himself on the road. A single vehicle accident. No sign of braking force on the asphalt. You’re telling me he didn’t crash on purpose? His mother and Seungsoo denied the ‘theory’, but I and Haesoo _knew_. Even his doctor knew. We talked about it. That’s why Haesoo never visited him together with you. She knew something was wrong. Now, tell me, what do you think drove him to do that? You’ve got to help me here because I still can’t think of a proper reason. No one really knows what goes inside his head, after all.”

===

‘ _Welcome back, Mr. Doh. You survived a crash only with an almost broken arm and a few scratches. Your luck is out of the world._ ’

‘ _Where am I?_ ’

‘ _Relax, you’re in one of your father’s hospitals. Don’t worry about the -_ ’

‘ _Why am I here?_ ’

‘ _... excuse me? You were in a -_ ’

‘ _Why the fuck am I still alive?_ ’

* * *

* * *

_The sky turned dark. Crack! A bolt of lightning. Then came a big storm, with heavy rains pouring down from the sky._

_In just moments, the Ugly Duckling was soaked through and through. Then a cold wind started to blow._

“There's good news.”

_“Brrr!” he said with both wings held close to his chest. “If only there was a place I could get dry.”_

_All at once, a tiny light blinked far off in the woods. “Could it be someone’s hut?”_

_He flew to the door. “Quack?” said the Ugly Duckling. The door of the hut creaked open._

Good news, the lawyer said. He doesn’t understand. There's nothing good that would ever come out of this predicament.

On his left, his father leans forward over the long desk of the meeting room. “What is it?”

_“What is all this noise?” said an old woman, looking right and left. Her eyes were not that good. Then she looked down. “Ah, look at that, it’s a duck!” She picked up the Ugly Duckling and dropped him inside her hut. “You can stay here, but only if you lay eggs,” she said._

_A tomcat and hen crept up to the Ugly Duckling. “Who do you think you are, coming in here and taking up room by the fire!” said the tomcat._

_“Squawk!” said the hen. “I do not need anyone else in this hut laying eggs.”_

_“Do not worry about that,” said the Ugly Duckling. “I am a boy duck.”_

_“Then why are you still here?” said the tomcat. “Did you not hear what the old woman said?”_

The lawyer takes a seat in front of them. This time, he doesn’t bring any papers. He’s just here for a short meeting, for a flash of new information. “There’s a CCTV in the apartment. They discovered it just this morning, and the footage has been retrieved.”

He can feel his father’s stare boring holes on him. “And you didn’t think of telling me this one single fact that could’ve saved us from a lot of trouble?”

Trouble.

He’s a trouble in the family. His entire existence is a trouble to everyone around him.

_“Get out of here, pretender!” clucked the hen._

“With the footage, Mr. Doh Kyungsoo’s credibility would not be questioned.”

“Have you watched the footage?”

“I have, Chairman Doh. It perfectly explains what happened that night.”

_“Get out! Get out!“ hissed the tomcat._

The way he knows what his father is going to ask next makes him want to throw up. “Anything… _questionable_ , about what my son did in the footage?”

“Nothing of that sort, Chairman Doh. In fact, it’s exactly the same as what Mr. Doh here told me yesterday. It all checks out.”

_The door was still a bit open, so our poor Ugly Duckling slipped out the door, and back into the storm._

“So we’d be able to easily show them the truth.”

The truth.

Why does the truth matter? What is the truth if there are too many minds interpreting it in their own ways? Why doesn’t his mind count?

No one ever believes him.

_“No one ever wants me,” said the Ugly Duckling with a tear in his eye._

* * *

**two days**

before January 14th

On Christmas, he was given the option to stay at the hospital or to go home to his family.

Should he stay back at the hospital, he would be able to just spend the day in his cocoon and watch the snow fall softly outside his window, or go downstairs to have a feast with the other patients and medical members of the facility. If he went home, he would be able to eat his mother’s food again, play with his niece and nephew, and even sing carols with Haesoo.

If he stayed, he would feel even more pathetic than he already did. If he went home, he would only be able to hold it in for five minutes before he locked himself in the bathroom and threw up nothing.

So, politely, he asked if he could be allowed to spend the day outside. No specific destination. Just him, walking around the neighborhood, with the risk of freezing.

Fortunately, Minseok granted his wish. The psychiatrist must’ve taken a huge amount of pity on him after what happened the month before. He resented it, the way he was pitied even by Minseok, but it wasn’t that bitter, and he took the opportunity to capitalize it. Minseok looked so pleased when he gave him a smile of gratitude after being approved of going outside.

He never liked crowds. Family gatherings, company meetings, business galas, he hated them. He hated being in a place filled with people who saw him for the amount of value he had for society. He hated being stared upon by eyes that would judge him before greeting him with fake niceties. At least it was still bearable with a crowd of his friends because at least there would be a few of them who wouldn’t either leech on him or gossip about him.

Being in the middle of a crowd of strangers on the streets, though, was therapeutic for him.

Of course, he was still alone, walking through the currents of couples and families enjoying the Christmas lights scattered all over the place. But at least no one questioned his existence there. No one was judging whether he was worthy of being there or not. He was just there, minding his own business, only leaving his footprints on the thin snow on the pavement as the evidence that he was there. Maybe that was how his entire existence looked to others; maybe he was just another footprint on the snow, and no one ever noticed when he came and when he left.

Being alone was one thing. Being lonely was another kind of melancholy. He was already used to the emptiness inside him, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. He felt like a walking shell because the void had consumed all of him. There was a time when he wanted to try filling the void, but the more he tried, the more hurt he got. It was exasperating not to be able to fill the void because he just didn’t know how to do it and what to look for.

He found a vacant bench in the community park in the middle of pondering about everything and spent half an hour there. In that moment, he chose not to think about anything in particular and just exist right then and there. No matter how much he hated his own existence, he was still there, and not hating everything about himself for one night seemed like a good idea. As he looked up at the night Christmas sky, he wondered if he should’ve been much kinder to himself, if he should’ve been more selfish and put the blame for the tragedies in his life on everyone else instead of linking all of them back to himself.

In the end, the same answer knocked on his head; it wouldn’t have mattered. Nothing matters anymore just like how nothing ever mattered. Whoever it was that he blamed everything on, he would still end up like this. Broken.

With thoughts floating around his head and his hollowed out heart heavy in his chest, he spent the last hour of Christmas in the cold air of the community park, knees folded up and arms hugging himself.

===

On New Year’s Eve, he absentmindedly reminded himself that he hadn’t seen Jongin in a month and a week.

He immediately shrugged the thought away so he wouldn’t have to drown in the memories of what happened that night. This was the best outcome, anyway. Jongin, not wanting to do anything with him anymore, and him, perfectly causing no harm to anyone by minding his own business in this place. He was also glad that it seemed like his family chose to humor Jongin instead of him by easily agreeing to his wish of not coming home to celebrate New Year. It was the best situation he could’ve hoped for after what happened between them.

Maybe Jongin had told them about what happened that night, and all of them made a pact of not acknowledging his existence any more. Maybe Jongin had told them about what kind of a monster he actually was. Maybe Jongin had warned them about the consequences they would deal with should they try to help him.. Maybe Jongin had told them that it was not worth it. That _he_ was not worth it. And truthfully? He was fine with that scenario. He was fine. It was what he had expected anyway.

The gnawing feeling inside him was not a surprise. Having been used to it, he got through the New Year’s Eve sitting on his bed, his crossed arms resting on the windowsill, chin nested on the back of his hand. The windows were opened, letting the icy air blow through into his room. He couldn’t really register the cold. He was just there, gaze unfocused, head filled with white noise. The emptiness inside him was already familiar, and although he found no comfort in it, he was rather grateful that the void was the only thing he needed to deal with that night.

His eyes noticed the blooming fireworks in the night sky far away from the hospital. The vibrant colors lulled him into daydreaming for a moment. He was never fond of fireworks, but he surely enjoyed the times when he would be dragged by his family out of his room to camp on the rooftop garden of their house and watch the colors exploding around them, and the last few years’ New Year’s Eve when Jongin would send him tons of pictures of him playing with sparklers. In those times, he could forget the reality for a few hours and pretend that he was happy. That his life was very much in accordance with every kind of meaning of happiness that he had the time and energy to romanticize fireworks.

He actually missed those times when he could still pretend he was fine.

Now he had spilled out too much of the venom in his system to the point he couldn’t even fake a smile anymore.

He started imagining how it would be if he was alright. Maybe he would’ve been at home, sipping some Dom Perignon in the middle of a conversation, his parents sitting side by side, his brother chasing the kids around, his sister-in-law bringing in a new batch of cheese platter, Haesoo being the one who led the talk, and Jongin… Jongin laughing at the slightest humorous bit of it. He would’ve cracked a joke or two and thrived on the way he made everyone burst into laughter, and at some point he would’ve glanced at Jongin, who would’ve been draping an arm around Haesoo’s shoulder, and there would’ve been a loud pang inside his chest, but it would’ve been alright, because it was his own problem to handle and he knew that he would learn to grow out of his heartbreak, because that heartbreak was just a heartbreak instead of an addition to the feeling of being so unworthy of love. He would’ve been alright, his world would’ve been spinning just fine, and he would’ve cracked another joke while taking small sips of his wine.

But in the end, there he was, on the bed in his room in the mental hospital, looking up towards the midnight sky to watch the fireworks, his thoughts being the only company he had.

At least this was his version of alright. Not feeling like stabbing himself and throwing everything inside him out was his version of alright. Instead of choking up, he was still breathing properly, despite being exhausted by it, and that was already good enough. Instead of thinking about the worst events in his life, he was thinking about the few good times, and that was already good enough.

This was how he comforted himself as he welcomed another year.

===

On his birthday, though, he finally realized that he was feeling something was wrong.

“What do you usually do for your birthday?”

He spent a few seconds thinking back to those times in the past years. “Buy cake for myself.”

“Oh? Shouldn’t someone else buy it for you instead?”

“I bought cakes for everyone’s birthday. Then I bought one for myself.”

Minseok looked actually stunned, it was so comical to the point he almost laughed. “So you could celebrate it by yourself?”

“No, it was for the people at home.” He sighed at how ineloquent he had become. “I mean… we have this family tradition, taking pictures with our birthday cake at midnight. It was always me who prepared the cake and drinks. That included my birthday too.”

Again, he felt like laughing, because saying what he had just said out loud only made him seem so pitiful.

“And how would you spend the rest of the day?”

“Treating my friends to a meal. Or if not… with just the usual stuff to do. I don’t like birthdays. I never liked birthdays.”

That was when he got reminded of something; it came to him so sudden like a slap.

“But the last couple of years… I think three? For the last three years, I enjoyed my birthdays.”

“Really? What was different from the years before that?”

He finally realized what was wrong about his birthday this year.

“Jongin,” he had said in a whisper.

“Kim Jongin? What about him?”

“Our birthdays…” ‘ _Hey, our birthdays are only a day apart!_ ’ “Our birthdays are only a day apart. I’m on January twelfth, he’s on the fourteenth. When we started being friends, he found out about that and told me… ‘ _Why don’t we have a joint party?_ ’ And somehow, ever since that, we celebrated our birthdays together. On the thirteenth.”

The acknowledging nod from Minseok only made him feel a little bit embarrassed. “That’s very nice of you two. What would you two do on that day, then?”

He wasn’t really in the right state to recall the times he spent with Jongin, but at least he was doing it because he needed to answer a question. “Nothing fancy.” He started out. “We would exchange cakes. The small sized ones. I would always give him chocolate, he would give me the one with the prettiest color on the display. Once… we spent the day at the amusement park, and tried almost all of the rides there. We also once drove to the beach and ate so much seafood. Last year… last year we spent the entire day cooking at his house.”

“Cooking? Whoa, I never expected.” Minseok chuckled, and the mirth in it sounded so genuine that he ended up mimicking it. “You two cook?”

“I do. He just… burns the kitchen.” He let a small smile stay on his lips. “It was quite funny, last year. His brother - Jongdae, a friend of mine too, was really worried he was going to hurt himself because, seriously, he was just not meant to cook. But he insisted on making my favorite bibimbap, and he wanted to eat my kimchi spaghetti so bad. You know you don’t need to make a lot of fuss making bibimbap, right? You just only need to blanch the veggies and mix everything. But he managed to cut four fingers and burn a hand in the process, Jongdae called it ‘bloody bibimbap’. Anyway, we ended up making a lot of food and got the entire house to eat with us. I even brought home some.”

“I assume that was your favorite January thirteenth among the three?”

It was. The way they spent the whole day bumping against each other despite being in a large kitchen, smelling like garlic and pepper powder, was a treasure for him. Talking about that day even felt so good to the point he didn’t need to hesitate on speaking. There were so many fond memories that turned bitter for him, but at least he could still recall this one with a smile. So he gave a small yet firm nod to Minseok. Yes, it was his favorite January thirteenth among the three. It was his favorite January thirteenth ever.

“I wonder how Jongin became such an important person in your life. You’ve told me that you were - you _are_ in love with him. But how? How did he become someone you love?” Minseok seemed a little bit cautious because of his own question. “Please do mind that I’m not trying to justify your choices here, I’m just honestly curious.”

There was no way he was just honestly curious, but he decided to tell him anyway. Anything that could come up in his mind. “I don’t know, really.” He shrugged. “I admit I was very much attracted to him at first because of his face. It was all eyes at first.”

The smirk on Minseok’s lips got him snorting. “I totally see what you mean,” the psychiatrist mused.

“But then I learned more about him. Jongin was… Jongin. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met in my whole life. I was actually very skeptical about him in the beginning. My trust and attachment issues were already going severe when I met him, anyway. But he was just very genuine and considerate with everyone around him. He was always such a ray of sunshine, always making people smile. Including me. I never thought someone could have so much energy inside their body until I met him. He’s… beautiful, in every way.”

“Was he good to you?”

“He was. I felt like my own person when I was with him. He made me feel like I was seen for who I am as an individual, not only as someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s friend. He treated me as… me. I felt tethered with him. Because he, you know, he cared about me, and I know it was genuine. I could feel it. He cared about me because he just cared, not because he was obligated to. Like my family. They were forced to care about me ever since the day I was born. That’s probably why they feel like it’s an obligation. But it wasn’t like that with Jongin. I was a nobody, and he cared about me so much. I actually felt seen by someone. By him.”

“You kept referencing things as past events.”

Familiar bitterness started to swirl inside him. “I don’t think he cares about me now.”

“How so?”

“I chased him away.” He finally understood the reason he let the outburst happen that night in the last November. He was tired, too tired of keeping everything in for the sake of everyone else, and he was giving the free way out for Jongin. “It's my fault that he hates me now. I deserve it. I’m fine with it, really.”

“But considering how great of a person Jongin is from the way you spoke about him, do you really think he would ever hate you?”

He wondered about that too. “If he doesn’t, then he’s a fool.”

He wanted Jongin to hate him. He wanted to be hated by the man he loved, so he could cut ties with all of the vain hopes that used to linger around his head. It was the usual drill for him. Push people away before he got pushed away by them first.

“I think you have too little faith in him. And in yourself.”

Faith. Something strange and exhausting. Faith didn’t bring any good to him. Faith only brought him more and more disappointment. Faith was the thing that fooled him into hoping and hoping, only to have his own body be slammed on the ground. Faith was an illusion, a fatamorgana.

“It’s for the best,” he concluded.

It was for the best.

But he didn’t get any good from it.

===

‘ _I think you have too little faith in him. And in yourself._ ’

Minseok’s comment stayed with him for the rest of the day.

He just realized that he was too into making Jongin hate him to the point he had demonized his best friend. He had assumed Jongin would react the way anybody would that he failed to remember that Jongin wasn’t just anybody. Jongin was Jongin, with his beautiful mind and even more beautiful heart. At least he should give him the benefit of the doubt after the kindness he had shown him for years.

Or maybe that was what was expected from him. He couldn’t tell what to think anymore. He couldn’t rationalize anything through all of his fury and disappointment. He couldn’t see anything past the blurry glass.

All he knew was that he was the one getting the short end of all of this.

He hoped that Minseok’s words were true, or at least partly so. He hoped that things weren’t actually as bad as he had thought they would be, and that Jongin actually didn’t hate him, that Jongin was just taking some time to reassess everything between them. He hoped Jongin would be generous enough to overlook what he had said and show up again on Sunday with another box of donuts. Or, if Jongin couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, then he hoped that at least that guy would just forget everything he had said and be happy with his wife. He hoped he would never be a burden in Jongin’s life any more than this.

Jongin must’ve been preparing for his trip to Hawaii the next day right then as he tucked himself under the blanket. Jongin must’ve been in a light, humorous chit-chat with Jongdae about what they would do once they arrived at their destination as he buried his head deeper into the pillow. Jongin must’ve been quite nervous about the long flight as he tried to let go of his consciousness and wondered if sleep would kindly come to him faster tonight.

Jongin must’ve been doing well, as he dreamed of the days he could feel well.

Then he heard a soft knock on his door.

He could tell it was Minseok, from the amount of knocks and the beat between them. Almost begrudgingly, he yanked his blanket away and hopped off the bed, making dragged steps towards the door. He opened it, finding Minseok in his casual attire; he must be on midnight shift.

“I know it’s almost one in the morning, but someone is here to see you. So scold the other person too.”

Someone. Was there to see him. At one AM. “Who the hell?”

He then noticed Minseok glancing over his room. “He’s actually outside, right beneath your window. I could show you.”

“ _Who_?”

“Jongin.”

Something sank in him right away.

“I told him it’s the middle of the night. He begged me to let you know he’s here. Said he believes you’d think about it.”

The realization that _Jongin is here_ sucked everything out of him. His knees gave up, and in the next second, he was kneeling on the floor, heart pumping fast in an unpleasant way, the ringing in his head deafening. Why was Jongin there?

“Kyungsoo?” He still managed to notice Minseok kneeling down to get on his eye level. “I’ll tell him you’re unwell. Don’t worry, okay?”

That was the right thing to do. That was the wisest decision. But before he knew it, one foolish word escaped his mouth. “Wait.”

For a moment, none of them said anything. Minseok was probably waiting for him to speak, while he was trying to form coherent words. It was getting even more pathetic; it was just Jongin. _It was just Jongin_.

In the end, he said, “I’ll meet him.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know.”

He could hear Minseok sigh softly. “You don’t have to see him, you know.”

He did. He knew very much. That was why he was so baffled with himself. Why did he still want to do that? After weeks, months of accepting that he would never see Jongin again, why did he have to grasp on the chance of meeting Jongin so easily and desperately like that?

“It’s okay.” It was _not_ okay. He didn’t know what he was going to face, and the anxiousness was already creeping inside his system.

“I’ll let him know he can come up.”

The minutes that he spent waiting for Jongin to arrive was the longest he had ever gone through. It was tearing him apart, how he was beating himself up for agreeing to meet him and beating himself up even more for thinking that he shouldn’t have been so petty. He was feeling severely ridiculous for even getting so riled up. What would Jongin even do, cry about how they were supposed to be best friends?

He flinched when there was another knock on his door. It was soft, obviously hesitant. No doubt that it was Jongin. He gulped down the imaginary lump in his throat and stood up on almost wobbly legs, reaching for the handle. He slowly twisted it and pulled the door.

There was Jongin, with a small cake in his hands, candles shining among the fruit slices decoration.

And he heard Jongin’s voice, small and nervous, “Happy birthday.”

Happy birthday, he said. While holding a cake. In the middle of the night, probably a few minutes into January 13th. He really kept his promise of being here at least today. Because Jongin was just that nice. Jongin was too nice for his own good.

“Why are you here?” he still asked.

“It’s January thirteenth.”

“I know. But why? Why are you here?”

“To eat this with you.”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“I know.” He was quite taken aback at Jongin’s immediate response. “I shouldn’t have. I know that. But I did in the end.”

“ _Why_?”

‘ _There’s no way I’m letting you be alone on this day._ ’, he expected Jongin to say. ‘ _Because I pity you._ ’, he wanted to hear. But Jongin didn’t answer with any of that anyway. “Because this felt like the right thing to do.”

“Well, does it still feel right now?”

Jongin stayed silent after that, and it got him relieved somehow. “I have a question.”

The statement set all of the alarms in his head off. What was Jongin going to ask him? ‘ _How long have you loved me for?_ ’ ‘ _Is it just a phase or have you always been homosexual?_ ’ ‘ _Why do you think it’s okay to have that kind of feeling for another man?_ ’ ‘ _How long do you plan to have feelings for me?_ ’ ‘ _Was I really not the reason you tried to off yourself?_ ’ “What is it?”

“Do you feel like getting some fresh air? Like, you know, the actual fresh air.”

It came so unexpectedly that he had to take a moment to just stare at Jongin’s innocent looking face properly. “What?”

“I was asking whether you want to go out of here for a while or not.”

Nothing came to him still. He couldn’t read the light in Jongin’s eyes. “I don’t… get it.”

Jongin chuckled. _Chuckled_. “Let me rephrase it.” The guy heaved out. “I’m kidnapping you.”

“You’re _what_?”

“Kidnapping you. Well, not really kidnapping you because I’ve asked - _begged_ \- for Minseok’s permission on this. He only gave me one condition; I can only take you out if you agree to it, and I can only keep you until the end of January fourteenth. It’s totally legal, really, so don’t worry. Now, do you want to go? With me?”

He couldn’t help but frown. He couldn’t understand the reason behind Jongin’s action. What, on Earth, was going on in the guy’s head? “You’re getting me out of here?”

“Correct, sir.”

“Why?”

“So we can celebrate our birthdays properly, _duh_. I mean, I have nothing against this place, but I assure you there are much more interesting things we could do out there.”

“But Jongin,” _we’re supposed to_ not _be okay_ , “you’re supposed to be flying to Hawaii today.”

“Oh, that tacky brothers’ bonding time?” Jongin snorted. “That’s so ten years ago. And, oh God, a freaking long flight, I feel sick just by imagining it. I’d rather have small but much fun here with someone who’s actually celebrating his birthday too.”

So that was it. Jongin wasn’t leaving for Hawaii today. Jongin stayed back. To celebrate their birthday. Jongin was there, standing in front of him, with a cake in his hands, having wished him a happy birthday. The candles were melting down on the fruit slices. Jongin was really there. Was he dreaming? Was he hallucinating? He blew the candles out to prove that everything about this was real. They went out indeed. _Oh, fuck._

“What the - you didn’t even make a wish!”

Funny how Jongin was there even without him having to make a wish for it.

“What about Jongdae?”

“He has a daughter to take care of, anyway.”

“Haesoo?”

“Hey.” The gentleness in Jongin’s voice got him tearing his gaze away from the cake to look up at him. “Don’t worry about a thing, really. Just focus on us; it’s our birthdays, after all. Now go change your clothes so we can hit the road soon. We have quite a long way ahead.”

He was still trying to process everything, the last bits of his sanity was still trying to warn him about the consequences that await him should he walk out of this place. But who was he to deny the chance of being free from his dark thoughts even if it was just for roughly two days? Who was he to deny the chance of spending time with _Kim Jongin_ away from here?

“Where are we going?” he asked in the end.

“Generally speaking? Nowhere in particular.” There was a mischievous grin on Jongin’s lips. “Specifically? Probably around Boseong-gun. Maybe we can see the green tea fields there? It’s still the plantation season after all. Oh, that reminds me, bring some jacket and coat! And your blanket, too, I think.”

“You really chose a cold place. In the middle of January.”

“But you love the cold.”

For once in the past few months, he didn’t hate the way Jongin knew him so well. “When do we leave?”

From the way Jongin seemed to be stunned for a moment, he knew the guy didn’t expect him to agree this quickly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

As he hurried to pack up, his head chanted, _come on, come on, let’s get out of here!_

But in the moment he followed Jongin all the way down to the parking lot, something in the back of his mind mourned, _you fool, you helpless fool, do you think this will end well?_

* * *

* * *

_The storm ended._

_Soon he found a new lake._

“I’m not here to interrogate you, Kyungsoo.”

_Looking into the water, the Ugly Duckling saw the reflection of a flock of large white birds flying. He looked overhead and could not believe what he saw._

He stares down at his intertwined fingers on his lap, one thumb rubbing harshly on the other. “I know.” He knows that very well, but still, it’s such a foul play that his family did, sending Minseok in to crack him.

_There, above him, were the most beautiful birds he had ever seen! Their long white bodies and slender necks seemed to just glide through the sky. He watched until the very last bird had winged its way out of view._

The psychiatrist is sitting in front of him across the coffee table of the guest room in his father’s office. This reminds him of the mental hospital - and it strangely feels nostalgic for him despite having been away from that place only for a little bit more than a week. Soon enough, he would go back there. After his family is done making sure that he wouldn’t be a nuisance to them again.

_He stayed at that lake all by himself, and time passed. The leaves of the trees turned deep red and gold, and then the leaves fell to the ground. Winter came, setting a blanket of white snow all over. The cold wind and the dark clouds made the Ugly Duckling feel even more sad._

“I figured out that they’ve been asking you the same boring thing,” Minseok speaks again, and he now realizes that he kind of misses the way the psychiatrist talks. “‘What happened that night’, right? They asked you that so many times. Then they finally stopped once they found the footage from the CCTV at your apartment. Silly folks, if they needed that kind of evidence to settle with, then why bother asking you the same question over and over again?”

He trusts Minseok. He believes the man didn’t say all of those to lead him into talking. But he keeps his silence nonetheless.

_He had to go into the cold, cold lake to fish, but it was getting harder to swim. The lake was turning to ice. One day, all he could do was to paddle the water to keep it from freezing around him, and trapping him in the lake._

_“I am so tired!” he said, paddling with all his might. The ice got thicker and drew closer to him._

“And you… you almost got yourself into jail. You kept telling them it was attempted homicide. You kept telling them you tried to kill Kim Jongin.”

“I _killed_ him,” he finally speaks. “I killed him.”

Minseok doesn’t say anything to that, probably weighing his words up and down. “Kyungsoo, I’m on the brink of getting fired. For letting you go with him. They sent me here to get you to talk more so you could win the case flawlessly. But I’m not going to do that. It’s clear that you don’t want to talk about what happened the moment before they found you and Jongin on the floor. So I’m not going to force you to. I’m not going to ask you what you exactly did to Jongin that night. But I have something to ask you about, too.”

He finally looks up to meet Minseok’s gaze. “What is it?”  
  


Dread swirls in his chest when Minseok leans forward as if to put addition on the dramatic effect.

“What did Jongin do to you?”

_In a moment, two giant hands swept him up._

“What did you two do to each other that day?”

_“You poor thing!” said a farmer. He held the Ugly Duckling close to his thick wool jacket and took the bird to his home._

“What happened between you two the moment you left the hospital?”

* * *

**January 14th**

and the day before

Like a work of sorcery, he fell asleep the moment they hit the road.

The soft, smooth humming sound of the car’s engine really succeeded in lulling him, pulling him gently into the dreamless land. He was already half gone when Jongin explained to him the rough plan of their trip. It was quite nice to fall asleep into the sound of Jongin’s warm voice.

In a car, with Jongin, on the passenger seat. Everything felt right for once. Maybe that was why he had been so addicted to Jongin’s presence; Jongin wasn’t something that was forced into his life, meaning that Jongin was always there because he wanted him to. And it felt so, so right.

And the two hours of sleep felt like the best one he had in months.

When he woke up, it was almost three in the morning, and Jongin had just finished parking their car in a resting area. “I’m going to nap a little, okay?” The guy sounded tired, and it was starting to make him feel bad. “Don’t worry, we still have like three hours before the sunrise. We’ll get there in two hours.”

“I’ll drive,” he said cautiously.

“No, no. I was the one who dragged you out. _I_ am driving. But for now -” Jongin let out a big yawn, “let me nap just a little. You should get some more sleep, too.”

Just like that, he blanked out again, head lolled against the headrest. Why was it so easy for him to sleep?

The car was already moving the moment he opened his eyes once more. Jongin had put some music on and was softly humming along until he noticed that his fellow traveller was already awake. “Yo.”

He couldn’t look at Jongin for more than ten seconds. It was too much for him. Seeing Jongin smiling lightly at him despite still having his eyes on the road was too much for him. This was not good for his progress. He wasn’t supposed to meet Jongin again this soon. But, again, who _the hell_ was he to deny all of this?

In the end, he chose to look through the window, over the world passing them by. It was still dark outside, save for the street lights. “What are we going to do once we reach the green tea fields?” It felt nice to talk about plans, to decide something in advance, to think about something with someone. It all felt so normal to him as if this was a trip they had planned since long ago.

“What do you want to do?” Jongin still sounded full of spirit despite the underlying sleepiness. “I was thinking we could stop by and just look over the fields, but it’s also okay if you just want to sightsee from the car.”

Feeling content somehow, he leaned back against the headrest again. “Let’s see once we get there.”

It felt nice to be able to decide something so easily with no burden just like before. It felt nice to think about something without overdoing it to the point anxiousness would start eating him. It felt nice to just talk for the sake of talking.

“Are you going to sleep again?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Good. Now you need to talk to me before I start blasting Michael Jackson songs.”

“I swear to God if you start doing _hee hee_ -”

It was nice to feel like his old self again, it really was. But one thing he couldn’t shrug off his mind was the ominous feeling that was lurking around them. _What are we doing?_ He wanted to ask Jongin, but he was afraid he would burst the bubble of temporary, pseudo-happiness they were in. _Are we playing house?_

Colors started to spread on the sky soon enough, and they still talked in hushed voices as the sun was slowly creeping up in the sky. He wanted to know what was in Jongin’s mind, what was his intention, whether Jongin had forgiven him and actually taken a huge pity on him or was driving him to his death instead. But he had a peculiar feeling that if he asked, Jongin would immediately make a u-turn and drop him off by the hospital again, and _dear Lord_ , that was the last thing he wanted at that moment.

So he just turned into the Kyungsoo that Jongin was familiar with. The Kyungsoo that Jongin wanted. Kyungsoo, Jongin’s cool, smart, witty best friend.

And he prayed he wouldn't break at least until Jongin’s birthday ended.

  
  
  


He ended up dragging Jongin out of the car once they parked at one of the hills of the green tea fields. The air was cold, his jacket wasn’t even zipped all the way up, and yet he felt too pumped up to even care about freezing; he just ran and ran until he reached a spot where they could sit on. He then turned around and found Jongin jogging up towards him while chuckling along the way. They sat down on the grass, eyes scanning the green around them, pointing out the littlest thing they found interesting.

Talking with Jongin was always so easy like this; Jongin would tell him something that would make him curious enough to comment on it, and he would offer his own story for Jongin to react to. He always trusted Jongin enough to explain his thoughts and opinions. That was why it felt wrong when he couldn’t even look up to meet Jongin’s eyes when he visited him at the hospital. It felt so wrong, and he blamed himself for the way it all went wrong.

But today, he swore to himself, he wouldn’t let the worst of him ruin their trip.

There was a restaurant at the seaside village, no more than four miles from the field they visited. He enjoyed the way Jongin’s eyes lit up upon the sight of the ‘ _sashimi_ ’ writing on the board outside the place. The originally simple lunch turned into a feast the moment they decided to order the dishes in an amount that could feed four people. Jongin then persuaded him to do what they liked to call ‘critical assessment’ on the food, and when he did so, the guy was so delighted that he choked on his rice in the middle of laughing. It felt unreal, somehow, because just a day ago he never expected to even have Jongin in front of him like this ever again, laughing with him at the silliest thing they did. It felt unreal, but he shrugged the gnawing feeling off, for he feared that it would all disappear if he accepted the surreality of this.

The rest of the day was filled with more and more of simple, random things that he always longed for. It was filled with them taking the driving wheel in turns, them annoying each other with their song choices, Jongin saying the most bizarre thing he could think of, and him using his wit to outsmart the guy. When they finally fell into silence - a comfortable one that they shared as the sun was setting down and colors started to burst all around the sky, it came down to him that they didn’t plan anything for their birthdays this year, although they never did proper planning for the years prior. The thing was, he never expected to be able to celebrate their birthdays together ever again, thus making this like a dream come true for him.

“Are you sleeping?”

Or was he dreaming? Was all of this just a silly dream of his? Did he take too many pills and succumb into a sleep so deep that he couldn’t wake up?

“Yes.”

“Mean.”

And if so, would he even mind?

“Where are we going next?” he asked carefully. _Are you going to send me back to my solitary confinement?_

“We’re going to get you home. It’s been a long day.”

Anxiousness kicked in suddenly. “Home?” _The hospital? The house? Oh fuck no. Might as well drop me in the middle of the road to die._

“Yep, home.” The airy tone in Jongin’s voice was starting to irk him.

“Jongin, what do you mean?”

Then confusion flashed on Jongin’s face for a second. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten you have an apartment, Doh Kyungsoo.”

Apartment?

_Oh, shit_. Right. The apartment unit he had bought last year as an investment. Not even his parents dared to probe him about it. Jongin was the only one who was allowed inside and knew the password aside from him. Just like that, relief washed over him. “I actually do.”

“You old man. Relax, okay? We’re going there. Sleeping in a much better bed is the least you could get for your birthday.”

The guy was probably right. The idea of sleeping in a King sized bed with a soft mattress seemed like a luxury to him. “How did you even come to think about this?” he wondered, much to himself.

And maybe Jongin knew the question wasn’t really meant to be answered, thus he offered a small yet warm smile for him instead.

The evening sky outside was getting darker, displaying the hues of saffron and lilac blending together perfectly. For a moment, he was caught in the beauty, and rhetorically asked himself how did he spend the last months looking at the view in bitterness when all it brought him in that moment was nothing short of joy. He stole a glance at Jongin who was focused on the road ahead of them, the olive color of his face glowing under the light of the dawn. There was another beauty within his sight. How did he spend those months dreading seeing this face?

In that moment, where everything seemed so dreamy and felt so soft, he was reminded; _I love him_.

_I love you._

But, as usual, those words were for him to keep inside where no one could see.

So he just shifted his gaze towards the evening sky once more, hoping that the pain currently residing in his chest was nothing more than a foolish yearning.

  
  
  


“Ta-dah.”

The apartment was squeaky clean and filled up. He hadn’t been here for months, and he never really visited the place more than twice a week, so he remembered the apartment to be almost empty except for the basic furniture. But what he found was a place looking like someone had been living there and had been taking care of everything diligently. Even the carpets were changed from monochrome into colorful ones. Without a doubt, he knew it was Jongin’s work.

“When did you ransack my place?” He raised an eyebrow at Jongin.

“Excuse you, ‘ransack’? I turned this cold cave into a home!” There was a pout on Jongin’s lips; it made his heart skip a beat or two. “I even bought more utensils for you! Oh, oh, and a brand new set of chef knives! I also added that badass armchair for you.”

The single armchair in the living room which Jongin claimed to be ‘badass’ was navy colored with prints of brown bear all over it. “I could turn you in for trespassing, you know.”

“It wasn’t trespassing, it was a house makeover!”

“Thank you so much, Jongin.”

“Well you can nag all you want but - what? What did you say?”

He wasn’t really aware that he was tearing up, thus when he realized it, he immediately wiped the tears off his cheeks. “I said thank you,” he whispered.

“Kyungsoo,” he heard Jongin calling him softly, “are you…”

The rest of his sentence never came. Maybe Jongin was just as speechless as he was. He never needed much words from Jongin, anyway. He only needed Jongin next to him, and there he was, right by his side, patting his shoulder gently. He never needed a thousand words of sweet nothings. This, this was more than enough.

“You must be very tired,” Jongin spoke again. “Why don’t you go wash up and rest? I’ll put your things on the couch and the rest of the cake in the fridge. Don’t worry, boss.”

He cursed at himself for making the atmosphere awkward like this. “You must be very tired, too. You drove more than I did. You can go first…”

Then he realized that Jongin never said he was staying.

“I’m sorry.” He looked away. “I assumed you were staying.”

Why did he even say that outloud? As if he couldn’t get more embarrassing than he already was.

But then he found Jongin seemingly thinking to himself. “Well, honestly, I wasn’t. But on the second thought…” he pondered for a few seconds more before turning to him with a small grin. “Can I crash at your place tonight?”

Of course he would never ever say no to that. But he still wondered what was going on in Jongin’s head. Jongin had been doing such a great job in acting as if everything was alright between them, so great that he was finally starting to be afraid. “Of course you can,” he said as he ended his train of thoughts. “I have some clothes in the closet.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve _ransacked_ your place, remember?”

“I’m seriously thinking about reporting you to the police.”

“It’s alright, I have the money to bail myself out. Or you would do it for me anyway.”

It was a wonder, how he didn’t resent the way Jongin knew him that much this time. “Are we even allowed to do that?” He landed a weak punch on Jongin’s arm. “Go wash up first. I’ll clean up.”

“I knew you would say that. I was just being polite.”

And after an hour of them cleaning themselves up and arguing about who should take the bed and the couch, they ended up staring at each other on his King sized bed. He was tucked neatly under the blanket while Jongin was sleeping on the blanket instead.

“This is stupid,” he murmured. “I’m really fine with the couch.”

Jongin still managed to roll his eyes despite the lids threatening to close. “You know what, screw the couch. We have this amazing bed and we fought over that boring looking couch? Yes, I said _boring_.”

He chuckled right away at the memory of Jongin sulking because he chose the ash colored couch over the navy velvet one. “When will you let that one go, Kim Jongin?”

“Never, Doh Kyungsoo.” Jongin let out a big yawn without a single care. “This reminds me of the times you slept at my place during exam week.”

“God, exams. The way my anxiety would get hiked up everytime.”

Instead of another remark, the reply he got was a moment of silence. “I never knew you were struggling with anxiety until you got admitted to the hospital.”

He didn’t really know what to say to that. “Oh.”

“I actually had an idea that you have the tendency to overthink. I just never realized it was a part of anxiety. And to think that there were so many times I dragged you into doing some random things with me at the most random timing… I’m so sorry.”

Jongin was a free spirited person, indeed. There was just so much energy inside him that he had to channel it out through doing any possible thing he could think of. It was exhausting to keep up with him at times, but keeping up with Jongin was an honor to him back then.

“I should’ve talked to you about that.” He tried so hard to sound casual. “But I can’t remember you hurting me, though.” _At least not when you were aware of it._

“I also was never aware that you’ve been dealing with depression even since before we met. I’m so blind about those things.” Jongin’s voice became smaller. “I should’ve been a help to you, but I was just too busy dragging you around to have fun with me. God. I’m so sorry, Kyungsoo.”

He felt like pulling the blanket up to cover his face so he wouldn’t have to deal with this conversation. “I wasn’t properly diagnosed yet when we met. I didn’t even know I was depressed, I mean, I wasn’t aware that what I was dealing with was classified as depression. All I knew back then was that… that I couldn’t find comfort in almost everything in my life. Some days I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to people, so I kept lying about being sick. Sometimes I would stay awake for two days because the thoughts in my head were just too loud, sometimes I would oversleep as if my subconsciousness knew I didn’t want to deal with anything just yet. At some point, my life became quite messy, and the only reason I could think of was the mid-life crisis. I didn’t know those were red flags for depression.”

Recalling those times got him feeling a little bit heavy, but he was aware that he was giving an explanation to Jongin instead of just ranting. Since Jongin was willing to understand him even to the point he felt guilty, he thought it would only be fair that he elaborated about these things.

“If only you knew sooner, you could’ve gotten the help you needed.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not. You see, in my case, I didn’t even acknowledge that I had depression until…” _until I tried to off myself through a crash._ “I never thought I was depressed. I always thought I was just having a hard time. A very hard time. I couldn’t easily say I was depressed because I always thought that someone with actual depression must’ve been having it much worse than I did and I shouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”

Now he half regretted saying those things, because the look Jongin was giving him was starting to make him feel uncomfortable. It was almost as if Jongin was pitying him. And he hated being an object of pity. “You’ve been so strong, dealing with that all these years by yourself.”

Strong. If he was strong, he wouldn’t have ended up in a mental hospital.

There was a short pause between them, and he waited for the ‘ _Why?_ ’ ‘ _What happened to you?_ ’ ‘ _What made you depressed?_ ’ while he tried to brew a simple explanation that he could give Jongin. But none of those questions came.

Instead, what Jongin told him after the silence was; “I wish I could’ve been a help for you, really. There must’ve been something that I could do. I wish I was more aware back then.”

Oh, how kind and pure Jongin’s heart was. There was no one who could help him, he had figured that out by now, but he still appreciated Jongin’s words. “You became my friend.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the look on Jongin’s face. “That was enough.”

Jongin’s presence was enough to help him see there was something else in his life other than the dark clouds in his head - even though he ended up being one of them.

“I’m sorry.”

He frowned at Jongin’s choice of words. “What for?”

His best friend was staring down over the pillow, seeming like he was about to float towards the dreamland soon enough. “Everything.”

It never sat well with him whenever someone apologized without actually knowing what they did wrong. But it was Jongin, and he trusted the guy enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Jongin was still trying to understand him, too, and apologizing for the mistakes he didn’t realize he had done was the start for him.

Or maybe Jongin was apologizing for not being able to love him back.

Suddenly he decided to stop wondering. Why the hell did he have to think about that again?

“You didn’t do anything wrong, though.” _It was all me. It was my fault. I inflicted pain on myself._

Jongin didn’t give him a reply, and that was when he finally noticed that the guy had fallen asleep. His eyes started tracing the lines on the face; the long eyelashes, the sharp angle of the nose, the apple of the cheek, the plump lips that had a very small gap between them, to the beautifully sculpted jaw. Jongin was there, sleeping, in front of him. Jongin was there with him. But not for him to hold.

There was a sudden burning feeling in his eyes, and as his sight started to get blurry, he let the tears roll down to the pillow. There were no choked back sobs. Just him and his tears, weeping in silence, mourning for the way what he wanted was in front of him but was not for him to reach.

He turned around until he couldn’t see Jongin anymore and let himself drown until sleep came to give him some mercy.

===

_It’s Jongin’s birthday_ was the first thing he thought of the moment he woke up in the morning.

He was disoriented for a moment, head a little bit light, before he could gather his consciousness. _It’s Jongin’s birthday_ . He turned around and found Jongin still in his deep sleep. There was a huge relief washing over him; Jongin didn’t leave him after all. _It’s his birthday._

The guy was supposed to already be in Hawaii by now, but he was there in front of him instead.

Delight and guilt clashed inside him. He was obviously beyond flattered that Jongin cancelled his long-planned overseas trip with his brother to stick to their birthday ritual, but he also wasn’t fond of the fact that he had ruined Jongin’s plan. It wasn’t even just Jongin’s plan alone; Jongdae must’ve been upset. How about Haesoo? Did she know Jongin was here? These were the questions he couldn’t ask Jongin the day before, and he would likely have no bravery to do it today.

Figuring out he shouldn’t be wasting his time thinking about this, he decided to go out for some grocery shopping. The least he could do to keep up with Jongin’s kindness was to cook for him and buy him a chocolate cake.

  
  
  


He settled with seaweed soup and bibimbap for lunch, then kimchi spaghetti and donkatsu for dinner. Fortunately he still had his cards and some cash in his wallet; he would shop a lot for the meal. He felt a small smile creeping on his lips as he tossed the products into his cart, thinking back to last year when they cooked the exact same things. It was quite bitter sweet to recall that day, when everything was simple and he still thought he would be alright eventually if he just buried all of his thoughts properly.

Shaking his head, he chose to focus on picking the right brand for the ingredients.

Once he reached the cashier, he asked if he could borrow a phone charger, wondering if his phone would still work after being abandoned for months. He finished his payment and moved to the side to charge his phone - and was immediately greeted with a call once the phone was available to be used. It was from Jongin.

“ _Where are you?!_ ”

“... at a grocery store near the apartment…?”

“ _Why didn’t you tell me first before going?!_ ”

“But I left a note… on the bedside table? Right next to your phone.”

There was a short silence before Jongin let out a soft ‘ _oh_ ’.

He tried so hard to hold his laugh in that it was starting to hurt his nose. “I’ll be done soon. Sorry I kind of stole your car.”

“ _How about I go to you now?_ ”

“What? No, Jongin, I’m going to be home in, like, less than an hour.”

“ _You shouldn’t be alone._ ” He heard a heavy sigh from the speaker. “ _Alright, then. Can you at least text me where you would be once you get there?_ ”

“Wow, Jongin. You should’ve used a baby monitor on me instead.”

“ _Text! Me!_ ”

“Alright, alright. I’m hanging up now.”

“ _I swear to God if you don’t te -_ ”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the end button before putting it on the counter. Now there was a full, wide smile on his lips, with his eyes crinkled up in mirth. He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled genuinely without something bitter underlying it.

It felt so, so good, almost intoxicating, to have Jongin caring about him like that. He didn’t want to be bothered with thinking about the actual motive behind all these sweet acts; he only justified it with the fact that Jongin always had a sweet disposition anyway. He just wanted to indulge in it as much as he could before they expired. It was so good to feel like he was important to Jongin.

Like he was important at least to someone who was important to him.

  
  
  


They spent two hours before noon for the whole cooking process. Making bibimbap was somehow equal to doing the college entrance exam for Jongin, and he kept laughing while watching the guy panicking about almost everything. It was a miracle that he managed to finish cooking the seaweed soup safely while aiding Jongin through his chopping and sauteeing nightmare; he had to keep telling Jongin to go slow because the brand new knife he bought was very sharp.

“The key is in the sauce,” Jongin repeated for the nth time as he _finally_ got to mixing the gochujang sauce with tiny bits of pork. That was something he had told Jongin last year, and it was great that the guy took the words in like a holy prophecy.

He glanced at Jongin’s work and murmured lowly in purpose, “you know you have to cook the sauce too, right?”

The horror flashing in Jongin’s eyes was so entertaining.

They finished just right by lunch time, and they only realized they had made too much again when they finished setting the dishes on the dining table; they even managed to make a big plate worth of pajeon. Jongin took pictures of the dishes from every possible angle before finally settling down on his chair.

“Happy birthday to us!” Jongin chirped as they brought their cans of soda up for a toast.

“Happy birthday to _you_.”

“Nah,” he watched as Jongin shook his head nonchalantly, “to us.”

He bit the bottom of his lip to hide the grin threatening to split his face into two.

There were small talks again, things that were light and didn’t need much pondering. It was as if last night’s talk never happened, as if Jongin didn’t apologize to him repeatedly, as if he didn’t cry just by the sight of Jongin in front of him. That was for the best, he concluded. There was nothing good that would come out of talking about heavy, burdening topics. He had learnt to suppress everything inside him, he had done it for years, thus he should be able to do it now as well.

In the middle of their talk about the movies they had watched together at the cinema, Jongin’s phone rang.

He gulped down when he noticed the way light left Jongin’s face when the guy realized there was a call on his phone waiting to be answered. Jongin murmured a mumbled ‘ _sorry_ ’ as he reached out for the gadget which was resting right on the corner of the dining table. The guy then stared at the screen for a few seconds before pressing a button on the side of the phone to silence it and putting it on the chair next to him instead.

“Someone looking for you?” he asked, like a fool.

“Someone from work. It’s my birthday, for God’s sake, they should leave me be.” Jongin chuckled, eyes casted down over the food, like he actually thought he was doing good at lying.

“Maybe whoever it was wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

Maybe it was Haesoo, asking where on Earth her husband was. Maybe it was Jongdae, wondering where the hell had his brother disappeared to.

“They can do it tomorrow.”

He could ignore it, though. He could keep pretending that he didn’t have even the slightest idea. He could just keep eating, and eating, and letting Jongin drag him into another random talk. He didn’t have to necessarily find out who the caller was. He didn’t have to know.

And that was exactly what he did. He let things flow the way they did before the sudden call. Pretending was his expertise, he could get back to it again.

  
  
  


With full tummies and even fuller hearts, they easily fell into nap time. Jongin dozed off on the couch in the living room while he gave up the fight against the sleepiness on one of the chaise lounges on the balcony. The sunlight was quite warm while the breeze was cold, perfect for a lullaby.

He dreamed within the nap. In the dream, he woke up on one morning to Jongin sleeping right in front of him, and the distance between them was almost zero. Then he just waited until Jongin opened his eyes and stared back at him, his gaze so gentle and warm. They didn’t even say anything, only staring at each other with the content look on their faces. They only stared, and stared, and kept staring, but the unsaid words of sweet nothing were so loud in their ears.

Then Jongin pressed his lips on his forehead, and just like that, everything was alright.

But of course a dream had to end.

When he woke up and found the sun was already starting to set down, he took a sharp breath to ease the stinging pain of the void inside him.

  
  
  


At dinner time, they put a large bowl of kimchi pasta and a large plate of donkatsu down on the dining table, pride oozing because _whoa, we really made this together_. The birthday cake as their dessert was sitting prettily on the kitchen counter. He observed the arrangement on the dining table once more; he really wanted to make it count before he had to go back to the hospital again.

“Beer?” Jongin eyed the bottles next to their plates. “Fancy.”

“Shut up,” he snorted.

“Are we getting drunk tonight?”

“Oh God, please, no. I’m not having you puke on me again.”

“That was _one time_.”

This time, they ate in mostly silence, only throwing comments about the food and light jokes that eventually got Jongin almost choking on the barely chewed pasta. It was a peaceful evening, the food was good, the atmosphere was nice. In hindsight, he should’ve appreciated these occasions more, because he learnt it the hard way that this kind of simplicity, this kind of peace, could be a luxury, too, one that he couldn’t afford. Two days ago, just eating in silence with Jongin seemed like something that would only happen in another universe.

“I can’t believe I almost gave this up for Hawaii,” Jongin said in the middle of chewing. “This should be the menu of our birthday feast from now on.”

The idea sounded very great. Them, cooking together for their birthday again next year, just enjoying a simple meal. But the question was, would he be able to do this again by then? Would he have gotten better, or would he still be in the hospital, being even worse than before? The weight of the burden of talking about the future finally settled down on his shoulders. He couldn’t think of what to say to keep the talk going.

Thus, he grabbed a bottle of beer and popped it up, then offered it to Jongin wordlessly.

“Already?” Jongin grinned as he took the bottle from him. “Hey,” the guy called again and waited until he looked up, “is there something in your mind?”

_Oh,_ “nothing much,” _if only I could tell you._

They ate moderately - as moderate as they could, because Jongin couldn’t get enough of the kimchi spaghetti and he was so amazed by how well Jongin had fried the donkatsu - and ended the dinner with another bottle of cold beer in their hands. They were now sitting together on the couch, side by side, gaze hovering leisurely over the screen of the TV in front of them. Jongin occasionally commented at the show that was playing, words a little bit slurred because of the alcohol that was starting to kick into their system, and he just nodded and snorted along the way.

He took his sips slowly, almost hesitatingly, as if the time would slow down to match his pace. Maybe if the world had ran slower for him, he would’ve been able to sort all of his thoughts out instead of swallowing them in and let them accumulate until he couldn’t handle the turmoil they caused anymore.

When he turned his gaze to the side, he found Jongin still watching the TV as he took sips of his own drink. What was going on inside Jongin’s head? He thought to himself. What was inside Jongin’s head that made him into such a nice, kind person? What was inside the guy’s head that made him smile so easily? He wanted to know what it was. He wanted to have it, too. Having bitterness as the biggest occupant of his head was exhausting.

He didn’t realize Jongin was already staring back at him.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

‘ _Why did you do it? You could’ve told me._ ’

Numbness was all he could feel when he looked at Jongin properly through his slightly hazy sight.

‘ _You could’ve just told me, we would have talked it out._ ’

He just looked away and took another sip. _Nonsense_.

“You never told me things. Seriously. You never did. I wish you did.” It sounded like Jongin was already half gone. “It took me a year to be able to at least read your mood. You never told me things. I kept giving you stories about me, even the most random details of me, just to make you do the same. But, dude, seriously,” Jongin leaned his head back, “why didn’t you tell me things?”

There was something different, an unfamiliar glint, in Jongin’s eyes. He was quite fascinated by it for a moment, but dread kicked in soon enough. “The hell are you saying?”

“The hell am I - Kyungsoo, if I ask you about something right now, will you please, _please_ , answer it without holding back?”

“Depends on what you’re gonna ask.”

Jongin looked baffled, so baffled to the point he put his bottle down on the coffee table. “See? See? There you go again. Depends on what I’m gonna ask? _Why_? Why does it have to depend on what I’m gonna ask?”

He took a big gulp of his drink. “I have some things I don’t want to discuss with anyone else, Jongin. You have them too. Everybody has them too.”

“But you don’t even know what it’s gonna be yet. Can’t you, like, be mad at me after you hear it? I will shut up if you don’t like the question.”

“Why is this a discussion, anyway?”

“Because I feel like shit, okay?” Then Jongin was sitting straight on the couch despite the hazed look on his face. “I’ve been feeling like shit for _months_ since you got admitted to a God damned mental hospital thinking I must’ve been so blind that I couldn’t see you were hurting. But how was I supposed to know anything about you if you won’t just tell me?”

“Kim Jongin, I know it’s all my fault, I got myself admitted there. No need to rub it on my face.”

“No, no, you’re missing the point here. I have zero idea about what you were going through, what you _are_ going through, but I care, okay? I care, Doh Kyungsoo. I’m just asking you to acknowledge that. And maybe trust me for once.”

“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have been here.”

Incorrect. He was here because he was an idiot.

“If you haven’t known by now, you know I’m fucking messed inside. Everything is jumbled up here.” He tapped the crown of his head. “I can’t just give you whatever you want to hear because I would just overthink it and end up telling you words I’d just regret later. But I stayed around you. I stayed around you because somehow you’re the best person I’ve encountered in my whole life so far, and I trust you so much to the point I -” _I let the love you never returned hurt me_.

Of course the rest of the sentence never came. He chose to drink again, hoping that at a certain level the amount of alcohol inside his body would eventually silence him. But Jongin was still so loud even without actually saying a thing.

“I could’ve done something,” Jongin told him in a hoarse voice.

And finally, he had the bravery to say, “no, you couldn’t have. No one could have done anything. My mess is mine to take care of.”

“Am I really that bad? As your friend. Am I really a bad friend to you?”

Jongin was drunk. That was for sure. Sober Jongin would have kept those words buried in his head not to ruin the atmosphere. Or maybe, sober or not, Jongin was already fed up with him, so fed up that he decided to just let loose. “What did you want to ask anyway?”

It took the guy almost half a minute to reply. “What can I do to make you not love me?”

Maybe he was already so drunk that his ears received the wrong soundwaves. “What?”

“What can I do to make you stop having feelings for me?”

And then he asked again, “ _what_?”, because of the disbelief.

“You tried to take your own life on my wedding day.” Jongin’s eyes were starting to glisten, and he wondered who the broken one was between them. “You became my best man. You even helped me talk to Haesoo when I told you I liked her. But -”

“ _This_ again??”

“- you already started having feelings for me even before that, right? You… oh my God, you attempted to take your own life, on my wedding day.”

“Kim Jongin. Are you really saying that I wanted to die because you don’t love me back? What the fuck do you take me for?” He couldn’t stop his hands from trembling. “You really think you’re the only problem I have?!”

“But I was your last straw.”

_You knew and you still had the heart to do this to me?_

“So I was right.” He scoffed as he put the bottle down. “You took me to this trip because you pitied me that much. Am I a charity case to you? Did your guilt get erased by making me feel good for a day?”

“That’s not -”

“Then _why_? Why are we here, Jongin? Why the fuck are we here?”

“Just,” he watched through his blurry gaze as Jongin struggled to find words to say, “just tell me what I should do so you won’t love me anymore.”

A realization came down onto him in the middle of his stunned state. “Why? Is it so disgusting to be loved by me?”

It was already one thing to give his heart out for someone who didn’t ask for it. Giving it to the person who was repelled by it? He never even really thought about it. That was quite an epiphany right there.

Jongin’s voice was small when he let out a soft ‘ _no_ ’ before he stood up from the couch abruptly, almost losing his balance in the process. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” The guy looked down over the carpet. “I want you to be able to look at me without resenting me. I want to help you, and I won’t be able to unless I don’t make you upset anymore.”

This was getting ridiculous. He loathed the way Jongin talked as if he was the major reason for his downfall, but at the same time it was also correct that he couldn’t face Jongin easily until yesterday because of the resentment lurking around him. The thing is, “it was me that I resent, not you,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t give yourself too much credit for this. Do you really think I’ll be, what, _normal_ again, if it’s over between us?”

Jongin seemed like he was quite taken aback by his words for a moment. “No,” the guy replied, voice almost small. “But at least you’d have one less problem to deal with.”

Problem. Apparently all of the tragedies in his life had been reduced to problems. Problems could be solved, but a tragedy could only be coped with. No one seemed to understand that he could only cope with his pain. No one seemed to see that there was no recovering from this, and he would carry this darkness inside him for the rest of his life.

“What can you do anyway?” He finally got off the couch as well. “What, reject me with your own words? Or fuck me once and for all so I could have something about you that I could call mine? What? What can you do for me?”

“Anything you want me to do.”

He cursed under his breath as he looked away. “How could you say that so easily?” he muttered, legs already moving to walk away from the battle zone. It was a huge mistake coming with Jongin. He’d just go back to his room in the hospital and suffocate himself. Nothing good ever came out of chasing something good.

That was until he felt a hand wrapping around his wrist and he was stopped. “I mean it,” Jongin said. “Tell me what to do.”

He turned around and stared into Jongin’s eyes. They were drunk. Irrational and emotional. Jongin wanted to get away from his job of being the innocent good friend so bad while he wanted to make a run for the balcony and just jump over the railings. The beer was a mistake. The beer was always a mistake.

“Three years ago, I was already in a fucking bad place.” He wasn’t sure himself why he started a monologue instead of answering Jongin. “I felt like my existence didn’t have any meaning. I felt like I was an extra baggage in this life. I hated that I was alive. And then I met you. And then I met _you_ … and you were so kind to me, and somehow we became friends, and even before I could trust you fully, I already - I started liking you so, so much, and it grew into something so intense, and I’m not even sure if it’s love because it feels like I’m just too obsessed with the idea of having somebody to love, and you just happened to be there, or maybe it’s love, maybe I’m just so in love with you because you’re honestly the only person in this world who made me feel much less sick about myself. I don’t know anymore, as you see, I’m fucked in the head.”

Jongin was already frozen by the time he took a pause to catch his breath.

“Everything… everything around me seems so fabricated and I’m not even sure what to think anymore. But one thing I know is that you’ve got to stop making my misery your fucking soap opera. You didn’t make me fall for you, I did all the falling myself. My feelings are my responsibility. All you had to do was shut the fuck up and keep being nice to me if you really cared about me or just leave me be if you don’t want to do anything with me anymore. Why did you have to drag me out of my room and make me feel so happy for two days only to drop this shit on me? You have no right to do this. You have no right to ask me what you can do so I won’t love you anymore. Who the fuck do you think you are to meddle with my feelings? Just tell me if you’re disgusted with me.”

He finally stopped when his voice was getting too raspy and the words just sounded too jumbled even for himself to understand. He couldn’t even recall them properly anymore. He couldn’t keep his awareness about everything around him in the middle of his dangerously growing fury. He was so, so ashamed of himself for looking this pathetic, for being so pathetic that Jongin had to waste his own birthday to make sure he wouldn’t be recorded as the villain in Doh Kyungsoo’s life.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he weakly ended his monologue. “And _this_ is why I hate questions.”

Gathering enough bravery to walk away, he started moving towards the bedroom, not really knowing why. He thought he should just start packing up his stuff and probably get a cab so he could go back to his ward. He had to, because the longer he stayed here, the more he felt like punching Jongin. Ridiculous. Jongin just wanted to ease his pain, and this was how he treated him? Even if the way he approached the matter was rather not favorable, he at least could’ve acknowledged Jongin’s effort.

“I’m moving to Tokyo with Haesoo.”

Everything in his head dispersed.

“We’ve been taking care of the move since Christmas. My dad started building a branch there three months ago and he wanted me to supervise the completion and take over the business matters in Japan after that. Haesoo is coming with me. She’d likely do her residency there.”

Slowly, as if he would explode because of one wrong move, he turned around. He found Jongin looking down over the floor.

Jongin was leaving.

Jongin was leaving?

And there he dared to act like he was going to be there with him through his healing process. ‘ _This should be the menu of our birthday feast from now on_ ’, he said. ‘ _You know you can always ask me to accompany you there_ ’, he said.

“Liar,” he whispered.

Was Jongin really a liar, or was he the one who never learnt from his mistakes of expecting too much?

“So you came to me and dragged me around as a farewell?’

The silence Jongin gave and the way he hung his head even lower was enough for an answer.

Everything was spinning. Everything was crumbling. Everything was wrong, and he felt like he was spiraling down into a bottomless pit. He already dealt with the fact that Jongin didn’t love him the way he did him. But to actually confirm that Jongin hated him so much to the point he was willing to move to another country was… there was no word that could describe how horrible it was.

Jongin hated him.

He wasn’t surprised. But it didn’t lessen the pain.

“Okay.” He almost couldn’t hear his own voice through the loud ringing in his head. “Congratulations. For the new life… or whatever. You really didn’t have to. Go with me on a trip. Lie to me.”

“I’ll visit as often as I can.” Jongin started to walk towards him, finally looking up. “I’ll call you if you let me. And I’ll be here for our birthdays. Only if you want me to. That’s why I… that’s why I wanted to make sure we’ll be okay before I leave. I can’t go knowing I’m still a burden for you.”

How noble indeed. Look at the way Jongin cared about him so much. He must’ve been the luckiest person in the world.

_Bullshit_.

“Yeah. Do what you want,” he murmured, head too hazy to think. “Do whatever you want. It’s all up to you. My life is yours to meddle with anyway.”

His life was everyone else’s. He was born to be trampled on and get pushed and pulled around in everyone else’s interest. His existence would only matter if he listened to their words and did whatever they wanted him to. He was born to cater to everyone else’s feelings and needs.

“Kyungsoo.”

He was a fool to think that he finally had one person who wanted to be around him because he was him. Now that he wasn’t who that person thought he was, the person was already halfway out the door.

Jongin was just like everyone else.

But it hurt ten times more because he was actually, genuinely in love with him.

“Kyungsoo?”

When he could finally focus on whatever it was in front of him, he found himself standing before the kitchen counter, a set of knives Jongin bought for him sitting there neatly.

He couldn’t count how many times had he fantasized stabbing himself just so he could end everything.

Maybe today was the day.

If he was gone, no one would have to be burdened anymore. If he was gone, his family wouldn’t have to pay for his treatments at the mental hospital. If he was gone, Jongin wouldn’t have to be bothered making amends with him. If he was gone, his father wouldn’t have to worry about him ruining the family’s image again.

If he was gone, he wouldn’t have to bear the consequences of having these feelings anymore.

Everything would be so much better if he was gone.

So maybe today was the day.

“Kyungsoo, what are you doing?!”

Before he could realize it, the knife was already in his hand. Jongin’s words were sounding a little bit faint, just enough for him to ignore them as he kept staring at the knife. Then he pointed it at his abdomen.

“Kyungsoo, put that down.”

He was done, so done, listening. He wanted to hear nothing. And he would only hear nothing once his brain wasn’t working anymore to process the soundwaves and comply with everyone else’s words.

He should’ve done this when he failed his first attempt. Would’ve saved everyone from more trouble.

“Kyungsoo.” There was Jongin again, this time right next to him. “Put that down. Please. Let’s - let’s talk. Please put it down.”

Talk? Useless. “I’m tired of talking.”

“This is not right. Please put it down, Kyungsoo. Please. Let me help you put it down, okay? I’m going to hold your hand, okay? We’ll put it down together.”

Loud. Jongin was too loud. He should just get it over with so Jongin wouldn’t be so loud anymore.

But before he could move his hands, Jongin already snatched the knife away from him.

“Give me that back,” he warned Jongin who was now walking backwards slowly. “Jongin, I’m serious.”

“No. You’re not going to do anything stupid.”

Somehow the words enraged him. “Stop meddling with my life! Stop thinking you’re so fucking important -”

“If you really care about me, you wouldn’t do this.”

“ _Kim Jongin_!”

“If you really love me, don’t do this.”

“Why does it have to be about you?!” He wasn’t very much aware he was half shouting. “Why shouldn’t I do this if I love you and care about you? You have no fucking right to say that when you don’t even love me or care about me!”

He didn’t know why, but the words actually got Jongin stunned. And the silence, the hesitation on Jongin’s face, got him thinking about things he shouldn’t have been thinking. Was Jongin considering a change of heart? Did Jongin get some kind of epiphany? Could it be that maybe Jongin just realized that he… too… 

“I’m sorry.”

Of course. That was quite foolish and embarrassing for him, really. He never learnt, did he? _You’re not loved, Doh Kyungsoo_.

His hands moved even before he could register it, attempting to grab the knife back from Jongin.

“Kyungsoo, no!” Jongin’s own hands were strong as they tried to pull away and keep the knife under them. He couldn’t even fathom what was going on between them. What were they doing? What would the world say if they ever saw them being like this?

In the middle of the blurriness, he felt his arms being yanked towards Jongin.

And when his sight became clear, he finally saw where the knife had gone into.

Then there was nothing. There was no sound, no movement, and it lasted for a few seconds before he watched Jongin slowly fall down onto the ground, slipping all the way down until he was sitting. He couldn’t understand what was actually going on just yet, so he followed Jongin down, kneeling on the floor, eyes darting all over the guy.

Then he saw it again, better and clearer. The knife was stuck on Jongin’s abdomen.

And then, he saw red.

It was the red shade of blood. There was a pool of it on the broken white colored tiles of his kitchen, the contrasting mix captivating his eyes in a rather eerie way. He was too confused by the color and the metallic smell that exuded the moment his fingers touched the substance. There was too much blood, he felt as if the world was spinning a light year per hour, as if he could hear it whirring.

The birthday cake they hadn't even touched was resting on the floor, ruined in all of its glory, around two meters from where he knelt, where his everything was shaking in shock and horror.

Then there was the pair of honey brown colored eyes that were staring up back at him. They were struggling to keep their focus on him as the light slowly flickered in them, circling back and forth on the line between life and death. He couldn’t look away. How could he?

And then, he heard it; the faint, almost inaudible words that his ears caught amidst the loud ringing sound in his head. It must’ve been from his own mouth, despite him not being sure that he was even moving his lips. Maybe he wasn’t aware of anything else. Maybe he had just lost his ability to comprehend.

“I’m sorry.”

It was Jongin’s voice.

It was Jongin, who looked like he was drifting away. No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be the one with a knife stuck on him, not Jongin. How did this happen? He still couldn’t understand despite being there all the while.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin whispered again.

“Jongin,” he finally found his voice back, hands trembling as they landed on Jongin’s sides, “don’t move. I’m - I’m calling the ambulance. Don’t move, okay?”

“I’m sorry, Kyungsoo.”

“Stop talking. I’m calling the ambulance. Just stay still. Oh my God,” he brought a hand to cup his lips, “oh my God…”

He didn’t know how he managed to stand up again despite his knees feeling like they would give up any second. He found Jongin’s phone on the chair at the dining table and immediately dialed the medics, trying so hard to give the person at the other line of the call coherent words.

He glanced at Jongin on the floor, heart sinking right away the moment he saw Jongin’s eyes were closed.

What had he done?

_What have I done?_

* * *

* * *

_Never was a warm fireplace more welcome!_

_For the rest of the winter, the farmer cared for the Ugly Duckling. Then spring came. Tips of green covered the trees. Short, bright flowers popped up from the ground._

_“It is time for you to go to the lake to swim again, as you were born to do,” said the farmer. He took the duckling back to the lake where he had found him, and set him with care on the water._

He cries.

Seven days after that night, he finally cries.

Recalling the events and saying them out loud for someone else to hear have made it real now.

“It was an accident,” he says in the middle of his sobs, “it was really an accident. I didn’t mean to let go of my hands when he was pulling his own back. I should be the one in the hospital right now. I should be dead by now. He was - he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

_“Gosh, I feel strong,” said the young bird, flapping his wings. “Why, I never felt as strong as I do right now!”_

_He heard quiet splashing sounds behind him, and turned around. A flock of those same beautiful birds he had seen in the sky before landed behind him on the water._

He can’t really see the expression on Minseok’s face, but he knows the psychiatrist must be baffled by the chronology he just summarized. It was painfully foolish. And his own foolishness almost cost Jongin his life.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

_“Do not worry!” he said to them, holding out one wing. “I will go now. I will not make trouble for you.” A big fat tear rolled down his cheek. He turned to go away._

_When he opened his eyes, he saw a reflection in the water of one of those beautiful white birds. Why was it so close to him? He jumped back. And the reflection jumped back, too._

He wishes he hadn’t gone on the trip with Jongin. He wishes he had just stayed in his room where he caused no harm while minding his own business. He should’ve known better. He should’ve known how much of a misfortune he was to everyone in his life.

He was so desperate to be happy even just for a day that he couldn’t see that.

_“What is this?” he said. He stretched his neck, and the reflection of the beautiful bird stretched its neck, too._

Now he sees why he was meant to have no one by his side.

_“Why are you going so soon?” said one of the beautiful birds._

_“Stay here, with us!” said another. “We’ll be great friends.”_

Because in the end, he hurts the ones who genuinely care about him.

* * *

**eighty days**

after January 14th

“We’re sending you to America.”

“We _suggest_ you go to America. We… think it’s for the best that you stay away from Seoul for the meantime. Everything has been messy lately, and we thought you deserved some peaceful time to sort out your thoughts.”

“You can come back once you feel ready.”

“Yes, you can come back once you’re ready to. All we ask from you is to update us about anything and everything. And if you want, I could come with you for the first weeks. At least I’d know what kind of place you’d be living in.”

“So? Do we have an understanding here?”

The sudden silence forces him to finally look up to see his father and brother looking back at him, staring at him expectantly. His father looks so cold, too cold for him to actually be convinced that the old man is really just giving him a vacation instead of throwing him away for good. His brother, however, has pity in his gaze, oozing down to remind him that he’s a lost case, pathetic, helpless. The only thing he deserves now is their mercy to at least send him to live properly somewhere else so he wouldn’t cause them any more trouble.

“Are you two done?” It’s his mother who’s speaking now. She looks quite upset; he’s not really sure if it’s for him. “Kyungsoo,” she then faces him with a gentle yet troubled look on her face, “what do you want? What do you have in mind? We’ll hear you too.”

They will hear him too? It’s a little bit too late for that. Maybe if they had heard him since many years ago, all of them wouldn’t have ended up here by now.

“It doesn’t matter if he wants something else. This is the best option we could go with. I and Seungsoo have thought this through for months.”

He didn’t really expect his father’s words would tick his mother. “ _God_ , and you wonder why he’s here?!” Her voice gets a little higher. “You always made him do what you wanted him to do while saying those were the best for him, look where he is now! Look where _we_ are now!”

He silently thanks his mother for telling his father that. It’s just that maybe he also wouldn’t have been here if only she had said those words many years ago instead of just being a bystander. But then, who is he to ask for more? At least she still asked him what he wanted.

“He’s here because of his own choices. He’s an adult, and he’s responsible for the consequences of what he did.”

“Which he wouldn’t have done if only you weren’t so focused to prepare him to be a huge person you’ve always imagined -”

“If I remember it correctly, you were there agreeing with me the whole time, weren’t you?”

He witnesses Seungsoo getting caught between the war. “Mom, Dad,” his brother calls hesitatingly, “stop it!”

Their voices are turning into a loud ringing sound in his head. None of this is necessary. None of this should’ve happened if only he wasn’t such a coward.

Thus, he decides to finally lay down the words in his head.

“I’m sorry.”

And fortunately, his apology gets their attention.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m really, really sorry.”

Even after three months, he still thinks that he has to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. For ruining everything. For disappointing his family as a whole. For getting Minseok almost fired. For causing Jongin to be on the brink of death. For ruining his sister’s marriage which was still too young to be ended. For making Jongin’s family hate his own. He destroyed everything around him. He had hurt everyone he was supposed to care about.

The only thing he could do is apologize and apologize.

He couldn’t even disappear because it would only count as running away from his responsibility. He’s paying the price by staying alive.

“This is not the time for apologies,” his father sighs heavily. “Okay, okay, let’s say it’s all my fault. Now let’s hear from you. What do you have in mind? If it’s good enough, I’ll consider it.”

‘ _If it’s good enough, I’ll consider it._ ’ Classic Chairman Doh. The old man always listened to his thoughts about things, then trampled on it and steered him around it so he would end up following the instructions he had laid down in the end. That manipulative tactics was what got him so discouraged to say anything in front of the old man.

But still, he needs to say this out loud.

“If you allow me, I would like to stay here.”

He watches as his father, mother and brother eventually exchange gazes with each other after being stunned for a moment. It wouldn’t be surprising if they think he has gone crazy. Maybe he has. Maybe he had gone insane at some point and everything that has been happening is just a distorted reality that his mind presented him with.

“But we just told you it’s not the best for you to stay here.”

“You’re sending me away so I won’t make more mess, right?”

_You’re sending me away so I won’t bring shame to the family again, right?_

Their silence confirms his thoughts.

“I won’t. I would never be in your way again. I’ll stay here. I won’t ever show up in public bringing our family’s name. I will stay out of your sight. I won’t cause anyone any more trouble. I promise. You can even pretend I don’t exist. Just, please, please let me stay here.”

Maybe the delivery of his argument wouldn’t have sounded like pitiful begging if only he didn’t start choking back his own sobs.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll never cause harm on anyone ever again. I’ll just stay here. I’ll mind my own business. I’ll deal with my own problems. You don’t have to visit me. Or ask about my updates. I’m fine. I’m fine here. So please… please let me stay.”

He’ll just freeze here. He’ll let the time go on for everybody else. He wouldn’t have to know anything about it.

“Haesoo won’t have to see me ever again. I won’t show up in front of her. Please… please tell her I’m so sorry… and she doesn’t have to worry about having to look at me ever again. She can consider me dead. All of you can consider me dead.”

Oh, sweet Haesoo. She must still be crying in her bed at the moment. Her husband has fled to Tokyo without her and her in laws are currently taking care of the divorce process. All because of her brother. Because her brother ruined everything for her.

This is even worse than a soap opera.

“But why?” His father is the first one to speak after his monologue. “Why do you think staying here would do anyone any good?”

His absence would do everyone a lot of good.

“Because this is where I’m supposed to be. This is where everyone would expect me to be once they learn about what happened. If they ask you where I am and you tell them I’m somewhere else, they would then ask you what is going to happen to me in the future. But if you tell them I’m here, it would be the end of discussion. I’m officially fucked up, that’s all they would want and need to know.”

All people want and need to know is whether they could openly berate him or not.

“You’d spend much more for me if I were to settle down in America. You know it too. I know you don’t want to see me anymore, but -”

“Doh Kyungsoo!”

“- you won’t see me anyway if I stay here. I’ll stay here as long as I need to. If I ever get out of this place, I’ll live somewhere else.”

“We didn’t say we don’t want to see you anymore -”

“So please, _please_ ,” he gulps down before continuing his words in fear that he would only start suffocating if he didn’t take a breather, “just let me stay.”

This is the best place for hiding. This is the best place for rotting. This is the best place for fading away.

This is the best place to be Doh Kyungsoo, because here, he’s not an anomaly. He’s just him.

Just Doh Kyungsoo, sad, in his room.

===

The space under the bed has become his favorite spot for a couple of months.

It’s dusty, and he hates dust with his whole heart, but the cramped space gives him a sense of comfort. No one has to see him if he’s hidden beneath the bed. No one has to see the monster under the bed.

The only exception he makes is for Minseok.

“At this point, I’m scared I’m going to see tentacles once you come out.” The psychiatrist sits at the edge of his bed. “Are you good down there?”

He stares at the heels of Minseok’s shoes. “What are you doing here…”

“I’m your doctor, remember?”

“It’s not… your shift.”

“Well, well, I am touched that you memorize my shifts.” He hears chuckles. “But yeah, I came by to check up on you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“You still have a lot to understand about my job.”

“Do I need to?”

“Once you understand why I do what I do, it would be much easier for you to let me be there for you. Just like how it was easier for me to be there for you once I understood why you did what you did.”

That was a rather meaningful sentence. It’s just that his brain immediately registers it with bitterness. “Why can’t people out there… be like you?” he murmurs. “Why can’t they be there for me… when they know I’m… I’m like this?”

Did he push them away too hard? Or did he never have their interest?

“Is that why you never wanted to tell them more about your thoughts? Are you afraid they would run even further if they know everything about you?”

They were never there, anyway. It shouldn’t make any difference. It’s just that it was all too late when he realized he had no one. His hopes and expectations were already too high. It felt like he fell from a high place when he was already under the ground all along.

“I don’t care anymore.” He still _does_ , just not in the way that makes him hope they would come to him some time in the future.

Minseok doesn’t say anything for a while. They’re just there, existing, in his dimly lit bedroom.

“Kyungsoo,” Minseok then speaks again, “what do you really want? In the context of you not being able to relate to anything and anyone, what do you really want? What is it that you want to have or want to see happen?”

What does he want? He’s not even sure if he still has the right to want anything.

But if he’s still allowed to, then… 

“I just want somebody.”

Somebody. Somebody to relate to. Somebody to exist next to him. Probably, if it’s not so wishful, somebody to die for.

Kyungsoo just wanted somebody to die for, not being the cause of someone’s death - or fortunately, _almost_ death.

“You want a presence around you?”

“... something like that.”

“Do you think you can have somebody?”

That’s what he wonders about too. “I don’t know.”

“Would having somebody make you happy?”

He doesn’t know. He’s never sure about that. All he knows is that happy looking people always have someone they love around them. “Happiness… is overrated.”

“Overrated?”

“It doesn’t matter to me anymore.” It does, it still does very much. He still wants to be happy - or at least to be not miserable.

“Do you think the pursuit of happiness is useless?”

He takes time to think about his answer. “It is…” he whispers, “if everyone dies alone.”

Minseok suddenly stands up from the bed, and before he could realize it, the man is already sitting down on the floor, face visible enough to make him cower. “Why do you think everyone dies alone?”

He doesn’t really think that. He just thinks _he_ would die alone. “Maybe we won't be so alone… if there are people who love us by our side by then. But what if… what if they won’t be there? What if there would be no one that would come for us… when we leave this world?”

The first time he tried to leave this world, he was all alone.

The second time, he was with the one he loved, whom he ended up almost killing.

“How do you link that to happiness?”

“What’s the use of chasing happiness all your life… if that amount of happiness can’t compensate for the loneliness you feel when you die?”

All he knows about death is that it would make him feel so, so lonely.

“Does that scare you? Dying alone.”

Tears start rolling down his temple, landing on the floor.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

* * *

* * *

_The Ugly Duckling stared at the other birds, and then at the reflection from before; it was his, but he found no joy in the revelation. “It’s alright.” He hung his head low and swam to the land. He walked away from the lake._

_He was never the Ugly Duckling, but then, what was so good about it?_

_And no pair of flapping wings could ever take him far enough from the voices that defined his existence for him, no lake water could ever erase the reflection of himself that his mind had seen before his eyes could prove otherwise._

_For inside his head, he was, is, and will always be, the Ugly Duckling._

* * *

**three hundred sixty seven days**

after January 14th

“Good morning, Kyungsoo.”

He rips his gaze away from the window; he was caught by the way the thin curtains flowed due to the breeze that had blown into the room. His eyes are now on Minseok, who’s standing under the doorframe of his room, clad in his boring white gown and glasses. He sighs when he notices the stack of books in the psychiatrist’s arms.

“Good morning. Minseok. I can’t believe you’re really giving me those.”

“This is my parting gift! Be considerate.” Minseok chuckles as he walks into the room. “Did you have breakfast yet? I just got from there with Dr. Park, and let me tell you, the soybean paste stew tasted even more delicious today.”

He already had his breakfast, and true to Minseok’s words, the food was so good indeed. It’s just that he was saving the space in his stomach for something he would eat later, thus he didn’t eat much of the dish. “I’m totally going to miss it.”

“As I said, you can always come back to visit me and we can eat together.”

“You do know this is not the perfect place for reunion, right?”

Minseok bursts into titters. “Right, right.” The psychiatrist then puts the stack of books down on the bed, right next to his bags. “You look good, Kyungsoo.”

A little bit caught off guard by the sudden comment, he brings a hand up to touch his face. “Good…?”

“You look more content.”

It was supposed to be a good thing, a measure of the fruit of his stay in this place, but somehow he feels no accomplishment or some sort. “Thanks to you.” He smiles at Minseok nonetheless. “And don’t mind my joke, I’ll definitely visit you.”

“I’m feeling like an old man here.” Minseok sighs again. “Anyway, please do consider the books as my birthday gift for you as well. I didn’t know what to get you.”

Kyungsoo eyes the books. These are the ones he had taken interest in when he saw them at the library. “You gave me my present four days after my birthday and they’re… books. Nice, Doctor Kim.”

“The books are expensive. You know that.”

He just shakes his head while chuckling.

For a moment, Minseok lets him focus on his stuff again, sorting and recounting everything on the bed. He didn’t bring much when he first came here, but after more than a year, he had collected other things from his occasional solo trips, and he figured out he had become attached to them. They’re like the tokens of his healing time here.

“Is everything settled for you?”

He nods at the psychiatrist. “My apartment is ready to be occupied.”

“The new one?”

His hands halt at the question. “Yep,” he hums. “Dad helped me sell off the old one. Used the money to get a smaller one.”

He had begged his father to help him sign the transaction papers in his stead. He didn’t want to see that apartment ever again.

“You’ll be okay.”

It’s nice, the encouragement. “How do you know?”

“I just got the feeling that you will.”

“What a very scientific answer.”

As they’re having their mock banter, he hears a knock on his door. They both turn to the door to see who it might be.

“A gift?” he asks the nurse who had knocked, frowning at the white box in her hands. “For me? Aren’t you mistaken?”

“No, Mr. Doh.” She fishes out a card from her pocket. “It has your name here.”

“Who dropped it?”

“An old man in a suit. Looks like a chauffeur, in my opinion.”

He thanks the nurse as he takes both the card and the box from her and waits until she has disappeared behind the walls to check the writings on the card.

‘For Doh Kyungsoo’

“Maybe it’s from a friend?” Minseok suggests while helping him unseal the box. “Wait, isn’t this box familiar?”

He doesn’t think much of Minseok’s words until he opens the lid and sees the content.

A dozen of sugar glazed donuts.

He had forgotten about them because he never thought he would ever get them from that certain someone anymore. He hadn’t gotten them for the entire year. He had forgotten about them because he thought the person who used to give them to him had forgotten him.

He eventually eyes Minseok, who immediately throws his hands up in defense. “I didn’t tell _him_ to actually give you something.”

“But you still told him I’m getting discharged today.”

“... he asked for updates.”

He asked for updates.

Jongin asked for updates about his former best friend and former brother in law who was seas away from him. Still a very nice person even after a year.

It’s a relief that at least Jongin doesn’t hate him that much.

“Maybe it’s also because today is Sunday.” Minseok’s words cause something to sink inside him. “What a thoughtful guy.”

Thoughtful. Jongin was… _is_ indeed a thoughtful person. A kind, warm hearted person overall.

He wishes they had met in a much better circumstance so that that image of Jongin would stay intact forever in his eyes.

Shaking his head to shrug the thoughts off, he offers the box to Minseok. “Let’s share this.”

  
  
  


‘ _Once you go home, where do you want to go for some healing time?_ ’

Hours later, in the afternoon, he immediately goes back outside after settling down in his new place. There’s a cafe on the first floor of the apartment building where he resides now which he had noticed when he arrived earlier. It has a rather minimalistic atmosphere, not too over the top but still seems fancy enough to add the value to the brand. Suits his preference very well. Without much thinking, he walks into the place.

‘ _A cafe?_ ’

“One warm lemonade,” he tells the cashier, eyes still hovering at the display just in case there’s a promising looking cake slice. “The pink one,” he adds. He ends up not ordering any dessert with his drink.

There are not many people in the room, but he still goes for the seats outside. The cold air of January welcomes him once more when he opens the glass door and steps out. The tables on the balcony are mostly empty, and he goes for the one at the corner, noticeably far from the entrance door.

It’s not Summer, but everything still looks quite similar to what he had in mind one and a half years ago.

‘ _Whoa. That was rather specific. It was a plan, wasn't it?_ ’

This should be nice. Spending time with himself, just like what he mostly did during his healing process for the last couple years. The loneliness was excruciating for sure, but over time, he learnt to deal with it in the proper way. To make amends with his own head. To be in peace with himself.

He still prefers being alone, he still feels lonely, but at least now he doesn’t straight up think the reason for his loneliness is because no one and nothing wants to be related to him.

‘ _It's a great plan, Kyungsoo._ ’

He still feels like he’s out of place, like he’s an anomaly. But he now knows that he doesn’t have to beat himself up for it, and he’s still learning to deal with it. He doesn’t know when he would break again - probably when he finally meets his family and sees the hatred in Haesoo’s eyes, or the pity in Seungsoo’s and their mother’s, and the disappointment in his father’s - but as long as he feels fine, he would try to be kinder to himself.

It would be a lie to say he understands everything about this, because he still feels like there is no way out of the darkness for him, but during his stay, with the help from ones who were qualified for it, he figured out that the most important thing was to try. So he tries. Everyday, he tries. Not to succumb immediately to his dark thoughts. Not to resent too much.

He still wonders if he’s much better now than before or not, whether he has come to love life more than before or not. But one thing for sure is that he doesn’t have to ponder over it every second. 

‘ _But if you change your mind later, about sitting alone, you know you can always ask me to accompany you there, right?_ ’

Suddenly he’s reminded of that promise.

And then he realizes that he never thanked Jongin for actually being there unlike everyone else. Jongin was the one who was brave enough to test the water around him and reach out to him. Jongin never gave up on him - he was the one who gave up on everything instead. Even though Jongin isn’t here to fulfil that promise of being here with him, he appreciates the effort of comforting him with it. He was so deep in the darkness that he couldn’t see it. Jongin tried. That was all that mattered.

Jongin was, and is still, the one he loves.

Just not the one he can hold.

_I miss him_ , his head suddenly claims. Out of the blue, he fishes out his phone and starts browsing through the gallery. He finds a picture of Jongin, which the guy took by himself, smiling slightly at the camera, eyes as round as they could get. Jongin used to steal his phone to take pictures of himself and he was more than glad to keep them.

This is his favorite picture of Jongin.

He places the phone on the table, supporting it with a tissue box so it can stand. Jongin is staring back at him with a smile. Now Jongin’s fulfilling half of his promise.

He ends up staring at the picture for a long minute, his index finger standing by to tap on the screen whenever it’s about to go black. He always loved Jongin’s smile - it was one of the reasons why he got smitten. He used to feel like the most special person in the world when Jongin would smile at him or laugh at whatever he said. But that was just how Jongin was, smiley and kind hearted. He hopes Jongin is still like that, too. He hopes Jongin is living his life well there.

And he hopes, from time to time, Jongin remembers him a little.

"Right,” he murmurs. “Happy belated birthday.”

_Happy birthday to us._

He feels so lonely.

* * *

" _침묵을 지키는 사이에_  
_모두를 떠나 보낸 듯 해_ "

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> May we all find genuine happiness.


End file.
